The Ashes of Burnt Dreams
by HoneyLynx
Summary: COMPLETE! A tragedy shatters a love, a family and a team. As Sara and the CSIs rise above their grief, they uncover the truth about one man's insane thirst for revenge. CS Slash. Seq to 'The Line Between...'
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **Per requested, this is a sequel to _"The Line Between Shadow and Love"_. However, if you haven't read that story yet, no worries, this one could still stand alone. This fic is darker than the previous one and there are going to be some very tragic situations. The pair is most obviously Cath/Sara. As of now, I'm not sure if I'll be introducing any more pairing. Most possibly, I might include the Gil/Lady Heather pair I had vaguely touched on in the previous story.

I don't write anything _that_ graphic, be it sex, violence or language. But for the darkness and the slash pairing, I'll rate it R according to the MPAA system.

The story deals with issues like the same sex marriages, assassinations, explosions, etc. If all these topics offend you, then please give this a skip. Though, as mentioned above, I don't write anything overtly graphic.

And coming to the reading and reviewing part, any and all kinds of comments are appreciated. If there are **_any_** mistakes, please point them out to me. Same goes for plot inconsistencies or misuse of legal/social/medical/forensic procedures.

And, ah, as someone pointed them to me... I use some "phrases" or "expressions" which are kinda hard to understand. I apologize for my multi-culture-isms > a product of having stayed in many countries and not completely absorbing any one culture... bah!

Now, that I have consumed a lot of your time... let's proceed, shall we?

**Prologue**

_The light from the fireplace danced in his Bourbon. From the other room, he could hear the keys of the piano move under gentle hands. Often a note would go offbeat but would be quickly corrected. His wife was teaching their daughter how to play Mozart's Concerto No. 21. _

_He leisurely looked at Botticelli's Primavera hung over the fireplace. One of his clients had presented him this original in lieu of his efficient services. Several such "gifts" adorned his house. _

_Beauty fascinated him. Not so much because of his academic understanding of them but because of a purely basic curiosity for them. Beauty was beauty and yet he knew how fragile it was. Ugliness had stability whereas beauty didn't. It easily faded, worn out, destroyed or disappeared. _

_He glanced at the snapshot lying carelessly on the Mahogany desk in front of him. He picked it up and studied it. Long blonde tresses, piercing blue eyes, sharp features that could almost be termed aristocratic and outlined pale lips. He cocked his head and felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. That she was physically attractive, there was no doubt. But the angle of her chin suggested a woman who wouldn't put up with any shit. The eyes sparkled with intelligence as well as a flirtatious glint. She knew the effect she had on others and wasn't fazed by it._

_Very soon, that flawless skin would be a victim to the licking tongues of fire. Those brilliant blue eyes would have nothing in them but fear as it senses being consumed by death. Beauty and brains, all would reduce to nothing but dust and ashes._

_He sighed and finished his drink. Then he stood up and walked to the next room. His daughter looked up and smiled at him.

* * *

_


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Sara woke up with a start. Her heart was beating so hard, she could hear the thudding in her ears. A layer of perspiration blanketed her forehead and her fingers were tightly curled into a ball. She released one of them and frantically spread it around the bed.

_Catherine? Catherine!_ – Her mind shouted – _Where is Catherine? Why isn't she here? What's that noise?_

Sara moved her head around from side to side, searching for her lover, panic gripping her fiercely. That's when she recognized the sound. A tiny device shuddered as it beeped repeatedly. She picked it up and glanced into it. It took her a while to process the digital words on the display.

She gradually unsuspended herself from the nightmare she was having. Sara ran a hand through her hair and allowed herself to calm down. Back in reality, she remembered that she was in her own apartment and Catherine wasn't there. She once again looked back into the pager.

Grissom had issued an emergency call for all his CSIs. Sara picked up the phone and called Grissom.

"Sara, I want you down here immediately. There's been a multiple homicide." Grissom answered without any greeting.

"Okay, give me the address."

Minutes later, Sara had showered and dressed herself in her usual work jeans and shirt. She was hurrying more than usual. It wasn't just because Grissom sounded urgent. She knew that Catherine would be there too. She needed to see the blonde.

Mainly to reassure herself that her nightmare wasn't true.

* * *

The location of the crime was a palatial Victorian complex rising above expansive manicured lawns and tended gardens. A swimming pool shimmered under the pale moonlight. Sara picked up her crime kit from the back of her Prius . The yellow tape had sealed off a vast area of property from the intrusion of outsiders. She was a little surprised that the media hadn't arrived yet. A multiple homicide in a rich neighborhood was like a meat scent for ravenous dogs. 

Uniformed police officers stood at a safe distance from the crime scene. She spotted Grissom by the patio. He was conversing with someone. Sara got a better look and recognized the sleek form of Detective Sofia Curtis.

As she was approaching them, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Greg marching behind her.

"Hey." She shot him a smile.

"I had to cancel my dinner midway." Greg grumbled.

"I had to cancel my _sleep_ midway."

"It must have been really bad. You look terrible."

"Gee, thanks Greg."

"No, I mean…" He raised both of his hands. "Not in a really bad way. You just look tired."

"I would too if I were getting married this Saturday." Nick teased as he ran up from behind.

"Aah, now _that_ I forgot." Greg smirked. "I wonder what's making her tired. The fact that her future mother-in-law has barred her from visiting her future bride on account of traditions. Or the fact that she is getting one of those, uh, wedding shiverings?"

"I would bet my money on the former, pal. To remain one week separate from Catherine? Man, that must be really hard, huh Sara?"

"I would say the latter." Greg assumed an all-knowing tone. "The knowledge that you are going to be committed to one person for the rest of your life is… creepy! But again, if that person is Catherine…"

"Nick. Greg." Sara tried to hide her blush. "Shut up!"

She fumed as she heard them snicker.

Grissom turned towards them when he saw them approach. His face was set in the same stoic expression he donned 24/7. Detective Sofia Curtis acknowledged the CSIs with a brief nod.

"Marjorie Callaghan." Sofia began. "She and her two adopted children were killed in the bedroom. PSAP got an anonymous 911 tip made from a telephone booth half a mile from here."

"What did the coroner say?" Nick asked.

"TOD is around 8 PM." Grissom answered.

"Around the same time that we got the anonymous call." Sofia added.

Sara looked around. "How soon before the media gets hold of this?"

"Information might be reaching them as we speak." The detective shrugged. "As soon as the neighbors notice the crime tape and police, they'll notify the reporters."

"Then we should hurry." Greg said grimly.

"Sara and Nick, I want you guys in the house." Grissom assigned. "Greg, Warrick is waiting for you by the perimeters."

Sara wanted to ask where Catherine was since she hadn't caught sight of the blonde. But after the ribbing from Nick and Greg, she decided to keep the question to herself.

* * *

David was crouched down by the body, his face rapt with concentration. He looked up when Sara and Nick arrived. 

"Hey David." Sara gave him a warm greeting.

"Hey." David quickly looked away to cover the flush that always crept up whenever he saw Sara.

"What do the bodies say?" Nick knelt down on one leg and snapped his latex gloves on.

"Multiple stab wounds on the woman." David pointed at the deep injuries on the chest. "According to the body temperature, I would say she's been dead for at least two hours."

"What are these?" Nick gestured towards a bluish mark around the woman's neck. "Ligature marks?"

David peered closer. "Sure looks like that. But I'm fairly certain she didn't die from strangulation. The marks are too faint."

"And there is significant blood loss from the stabbing." Sara waved her finger in a circle around the blood pool. "She was definitely alive before she was stabbed."

Nick retrieved his camera and took a couple of shots from various angles. Sara, however, noticed the two other bodies further away.

"The children?"

David nodded and moved towards them. "Gunshot wounds."

"Standard .22 caliber." Sara picked up a bullet casing.

"The children were shot and the mother was stabbed." Nick's expression was grim. "This was definitely no crime of passion. The killer came prepared for a kill."

While Nick volunteered to take the ground floor, Sara processed the upstairs.

The many years of working as a CSI had taught her to remain totally detached from the victims and the crime scene. She knew that people weren't subjective creatures and they ended up finding what they wanted to find. As a crime investigator, she couldn't afford to do that.

However, when she opened the closet door, she felt her knees buckling in numbness. Staring right in front of her was a pristine white gown, the intricate lace patterns appearing like wispy clouds on milky moonlight. It was a wedding dress in all its finest.

Sara walked towards it in a trance. She brought forth her hands and slowly fingered the soft material. She wished that she didn't have her gloves on for she had an overwhelming urge to feel the fabric. The beauty of the dress wasn't what captivated her. It was the very fact that she had seen it before. The last time she saw this wedding gown, she had been in a bridal gown boutique. This looked like the very same dress Catherine was about to wear for their wedding.

Sara suddenly felt sick. She rushed to the open terrace and leant against the balustrade. She took deep breaths of the cool night air. There had been several cases where she had lost her appetite by just looking at the evidence. But this went far beyond squeamish. She was positively sick in the pit of her stomach.

"Damn tradition!" She flipped open her phone and punched the speed dial number for Catherine. To her horror, Sara got a busy signal. After trying unsuccessfully another four times, she gave up.

The chilled marble of the railing clung to her palm like a second skin and Sara mentally tried to push the fear away. If there was _any_ reason to worry, Grissom would have definitely told her. She was getting edgy over a nightmare, of all things. She knew better than to let such things cloud her reason.

The sky was a navy blue on top but the horizon was still illuminated in striae of orange and azure. Sara could make out the faint twinkling of stars which were otherwise overshadowed by the brighter city lights of Vegas.

Finally, feeling a little more relaxed, she went back inside. She opened her kit and with restored professionalism, arranged her mind frame into processing.

* * *

Catherine had just turned around the corner of the mansion when she noticed Sara's form moving inside from the terrace. For a moment, she thought about giving the brunette a shout. Lord knows how much she craved to even hear the voice of her soon-to-be wife. Her mother had wanted all traditions to be observed and had put them both on a week's curfew from seeing each other. Not that Catherine remembered ever reading anywhere that the future married couple should refrain from meeting each other for a week. But Lily was adamant. Sara, who had become a darling in Catherine's family, of course agreed and much to Catherine's annoyance sweetly moved back into her apartment until the wedding. 

This restriction had just begun the previous day and Catherine was already finding herself unable to sleep without Sara's familiar body beside her. Not to mention, all the marriage preparations were driving her crazy. Her mother, Nancy and Lindsay would spend endless hours planning the details to the last flower. The next day, they would repeat the same discussion over again until they were assured it would work. Much as they insisted that she take the rest of the few days off, Catherine knew she would lose her remaining sanity if she joined them. Plus, coming to work gave her an opportunity to see Sara.

She noticed a piece of cloth stuck by the hedge. It looked like a patch torn from someone's jeans. She bagged it and roved her keen eyes around the lawn. She had been the first one to arrive when Grissom had called her in. Normally, she would be processing the indoor scene. Her expertise lay in blood patterns. Though as all top level CSIs, she was now equally adept at handling all kinds of evidences. But today, the idea of being cloistered inside a palatial crime scene wasn't appealing.

The grass bed squished underneath her boots. She could hear car horns blare in the distance. A crowd was gathering by the front porch. Catherine wouldn't be surprised if reporters had already started making assumptions and throwing them. She sympathized with what Det. Curtis would have to endure until the case was solved.

Once again, she looked up towards the balcony. The lights had been turned off. Sara had undoubtedly retrieved her UV lamp out and was beginning to scan the room for signs of body fluids. Catherine smiled. She had known Sara for 90 months. They had been lovers for 18 months. During this period, she had known Sara to be a painstakingly dedicated person. Whether she was analyzing evidence as a CSI, or having fun with Catherine's daughter, or assuming the role of both mother and friend when they were together as a family, or simply being free from the world to engage in hours of erotic lovemaking, Sara applied her 100 percent devotion.

Catherine swung her light in an arc around the backyard. For many days now, she had found it really difficult to concentrate on her cases. She absolutely loved her job and hardly ever allowed her personal emotions to elevate to the degree where it would interfere with it. All through the emotional rollercoaster of her days with Eddie and then his sudden death, she had managed to keep herself in check and throw herself into her work.

But this was so very different. She was giddily excited and she recognized the fluttering butterflies inside her stomach as something she had felt in her teenage years. The blush reddening her cheeks whenever anyone mentioned the brunette was embarrassing. Catherine could write a bestselling book about her sexual escapades and yet only Sara made her feel like an awkward, head-over-heels-in-love, virgin.

Tapping her head lightly, she scolded herself to return back to the case on hand. She always felt as if she owed it to the victims and their families to find and declare the truth of what had happened. She couldn't afford to disappoint them.

Besides, six days from now and Sara will be hers for life.

* * *


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

After long, exhausting hours of evidence collection, the CSIs finally decided to head back to the lab. Once again, Sara was disappointed to not be able to talk to Catherine. The older woman's Denali was nowhere in sight and Sara wasn't entirely sure it had been there the moment when she had arrived. By all accounts, Catherine might have taken the day off. Sara remembered the frenzied preparations going on and that was one thing she was relieved to have escaped due to moving out temporarily.

The pressures of working and planning their wedding might have taken its toll on Catherine. Sara had admitted to being a complete stranger to the customs and procedures involved in a marriage. She could barely remember the last wedding ceremony she had attended. Thus, she had been spared much of the headache involved in the planning. But Catherine might have succumbed to the exhaustion and gotten sick.

Sara just wished that there was a way that she could talk to her lover. She couldn't entirely get rid of a nagging worry within her and she was starting to get nauseous because of that.

She couldn't take it anymore and kicking aside all her modesty, she walked up to Grissom. He was intently looking at some terracotta figures along the driveway. With his expression, it was hard to say whether he was admiring them or simply looking for clues the killer might have left behind.

"Hey Grissom?" She forced a casual smile.

"Sara, what do you see here?" He traced the outline of a cherub's nose with his finger.

"Um, am I supposed to be seeing anything unusual?" She frowned, confused.

"Look carefully."

She squinted hard and then finally saw what he wanted her to see. "There's a smudge in the polish here. As if someone had…"

"Cleaned this place very hard." He finished for her.

"Maybe wiped something off?"

"Maybe blood."

"Luminol." She smirked. She fished out the said substance from her kit and sprayed it on the sculpted cherubic face. The face instantly pimpled in glowing dots. A trickle, starting from the edge of the nose and going down to the corner of the childlike mouth, fluoresced.

"Our cherub has a nose bleed." Grissom quirked his eyebrow.

"A fight may have occurred here. Blood spattered on this statue." Sara then looked around. "This could have been the initial crime scene. The killer chased the victims, perhaps?"

"Possible." Grissom absently nodded. "You join the others back to the lab, I'll stay behind. I have to talk to the neighbors."

"Okay." Sara scuffled her shoes through the dirt. "Uh, do you know where Catherine is?"

"She's gone to interview Marjorie's ex husband." Grissom was already snapping on his gloves.

"Oh, so she _was_ here?"

He regarded her strangely. "Yeah, is something wrong?"

"No, I just…" Sara splayed her hands. "Wanted to talk to her."

Her jaws almost dropped at the mischievous look on Grissom's face. Before he officially enrolled himself into the "Tease Sara" gang, she raised her index finger to stop him. "Don't even try to come up with anything."

"Alright." He smiled angelically.

She rolled her eyes and walked towards her Tahoe, muttering.

* * *

An olive-complexioned beauty, more likely to be seen on the covers of Vogue, sat cross legged by the glassed front desk. A tiny microphone lay embedded in the folds of her turtleneck. She regarded Sofia and Catherine with a cool expression, which didn't change when Sofia flashed out her PD badge.

"We like to speak to Dr. Callaghan, please." Sofia's smile was impersonal.

The receptionist didn't hesitate. Either she was used to having police visits or she was exceptionally trained at hiding her surprise. Catherine heard her exchange a few words into her mike.

"He would be right out. Meanwhile, you may take a seat." Saying this, she returned her attention to her desk computer.

Catherine walked into the main waiting area and took in the details of the squeaky white floors, the comfy leather couches and the soft wall lamps that gave the place a subdued look. Sofia casually flipped through some of the magazines stacked on the table. Reader's Digest and Times mainly dominated the pile. The issues never went further back than two days. Two local newspapers, that day's issue, also lay neatly in a corner. Two women and one man sat in the waiting area with as much space between them as possible. One of the women looked up and gave Catherine a warm smile which she returned. The man was trying hard to bury his interest in the crossword puzzle he was solving. However, he would peer from across the open page whenever he thought no one was looking.

"Detective Curtis and Ms. Willows?" A male voice interrupted into their observations.

Sofia and Catherine tried to hide their shock when they faced Dr. Callaghan. His sandy hair was long and was tousled in a stylish way. He had on a loose, silky shirt fairly opened at the front to reveal a smooth, muscled chest. His legs were long and athletic beneath the dark slacks. Only the liberal sprinkling of grey on his temple and the laughter lines along the eyes belied his age. He was a startling contrast to every stereotypical psychiatrist.

"Dr. Callaghan, we have some questions regarding your ex-wife." Sofia explained.

He shrugged. "Sure, please come on into my office."

His "office" would have made a good picture for a luxurious penthouse. Ceiling-to-floor glass windows overlooked the Vegas skyline. Pale cream light emanated from the designer wall sconces.

Their feet sunk into the pearl-hued carpet as Dr. Callaghan ushered them in.

"So, how can I help you regarding Marjorie?" He flashed both women a charming smile.

"Firstly, Dr. Callaghan…" Sofia began.

"Ricky, please."

"Ricky." Sofia cleared her throat. "We need to inform you that your ex-wife is dead."

"What?" He doubled back in shock. He looked back and forth from Sofia to Catherine.

"We are very sorry." Catherine spoke.

"God, how did this happen?" Ricky ran a hand through his hair.

"She was found murdered." She replied.

"Murdered?" Ricky's tanned face blanched. "What are you talking about? Why would anyone want to murder Marjorie?"

"That is why we are here. We are hoping you could help us a little." Sofia said.

"I…" He moved around restlessly. "I haven't seen her for a long time. We weren't exactly friends after the divorce. I don't know how I can help."

"For starters, could you tell us why did you and Marjorie separate?" Catherine asked.

Ricky shrugged. "We were so different. She wanted a family and I… well, let's just say, I wasn't ready for it. We parted quite genially but we never really kept contact with each other."

"So, the divorce wasn't ugly, you mean?"

"Hell no!"

"How about her children?" Sofia leant forward.

"You mean those kids she adopted." Ricky almost scoffed. "I don't know much about them."

"So, you weren't close to them."

"Listen ladies, she took in those children _after_ our divorce. At that stage, we had nothing to do with each others' lives." His grey eyes hardened. "And now I suppose you are going to ask me where I was during the time of the murder."

"What were you doing earlier this evening?" Catherine gave him a terse smile.

"As you can see, I work late hours. This is Vegas, which never sleeps until dawn." He smirked. "I was here with my patients the entire evening."

"Okay." Catherine traded a look with Sofia. "So, can you tell me anything about Marjorie? Anything at all."

"We were married for one year. She wanted to be a homemaker, not my wife." Ricky rolled up his sleeves nervously. "We loved each other in our own way. But I cannot say I knew her. She was beautiful, funny, and smart and I thought she would suit me, you know? But…" He shook his head. "Anyways, I'm probably not the best person you should ask."

"Well, we are done here. If you do remember anything else, here's my contact number." Sofia gave him her card. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Callaghan."

* * *

By the time Catherine and Sofia returned from questioning other of Marjorie's friends, shift was over. The weary technicians were dragging their feet to their cars. Some of them stopped to greet the two women. The rumbling in Catherine's stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything for several hours. She had an idea.

Excusing herself from Sofia, she jogged back inside the labs. Her cell phone was already in her hands by the time she stepped into the elevators.

After a brief talk with Grissom during which they exchanged whatever they had learnt about the case, she went straight towards the locker room. Loud voices and laughter could be heard flowing from there.

"Well, I can't decide between white and black." Nick was saying.

"Are you sure you guys don't have a color scheme of any kind?" Greg asked Sara.

She rolled her eyes. "Greg, the bridesmaids are wearing lavender. You want to try that color for your tuxedo?"

"White looks good with lavender." Everyone turned to find Catherine grinning by the doorway.

"Man, f_inally_, a decision!" Nick threw his arms, dramatically.

"Hey." Greg's smile broadened as he shifted his gaze from Catherine to Sara.

Sara threw her fiancée a warm smile but she quickly looked away. She could have sworn that everyone in the locker room had stopped whatever they were doing and were staring their way. She felt like an idiot who was blushing hotly.

"I was thinking…" Nick began when Greg nudged him sharply. He ignored it. "So, as I was saying…" Greg poked him with his elbows once again.

"What?" Nick glared at him.

"Um, Nick, don't you think you have someplace to _go_?" Greg was making gestures with his eyes.

"Go? No, dude. I don't have to meet that wedding manager until later this afternoon." Nick replied.

"Nick!" The lab rat whispered through his teeth. "We have to go!" He slightly cocked his head towards Catherine and then Sara. "You get it? We _have_ to go."

"Oh?" Nick was frowning when it slowly dawned upon him. "Oh!"

"Yeah. Oh."

"Uh, right, I just remembered I…err, yes, I had to walk my dog."

"Have a nice walk, Nicky." Catherine leant against the wall, amused. "See you later, Greg."

"Bye guys." Sara ducked her head inside her locker to cover up her chuckle.

"Bye ladies." They scuffled out as fast as possible.

As if following their cue, the others had left the room too. Once they were alone, Catherine walked towards Sara's bent form. She snaked a hand around the woman's slender waist. She could hear the sharp intake of breath. Before she could react, Sara had turned and wrapped her arms around Catherine.

"Sara?" Catherine was a little taken aback. She ran her hand in slow circles on the brunette's back.

"I tried calling you, Cath. I couldn't reach you." Sara's voice sounded strangely hoarse.

Catherine pulled away enough to get a look at the woman's face. "Baby, you sound upset. Is everything ok?"

"Yes. No. I mean…" Sara took a deep breath. "I was missing you."

The blonde placed both her hands in the soft hollows of Sara's neck. "I was missing you too. But you sure that's all?"

"You think missing you is a small thing?" Sara smirked. "It's driving me crazy."

"And I recall you being the one who so graciously moved out." Catherine faked a cross expression. "So, quit complaining."

"I didn't think it would be so hard." Sara moved closer until their noses rubbed against each other. "Any chance we can just elope and get it done with?"

She laughed. "Patience, my dear, is virtue."

"Not in this case, it's not."

Catherine brushed her lips against Sara's. "I would like nothing more than to make you mine right now. But remember you said you wanted to do this for Lindsay and all our friends?"

Sara sighed against her face. "Yes, I remember. And I was kidding, anyways. You think I'll give up the chance to see you in a wedding dress? Not in a million years."

"Neither would I." A devious grin spread in the Willows fashion. "And just picture Sam and Jim giving us away."

"Not to mention Lindsay and Nancy as the elite maids of honor."

"Brenda and Jeremy carrying our rings."

"Nick with Wendy. Greg with your friend, Stacy." Sara's smile just grew wider.

"And Grissom in his tuxedo, opening up the ceremony with his speech."

"Okay, thanks for the wrench."

Catherine hugged her closer as she bubbled in laughter. "Hey, we both decided upon Gil, remember?"

"Just hope he doesn't start off by waxing poetic about one of his bugs."

"So would you prefer to be the lady bug or the queen bee?" She lowered her voice seductively.

"Erotic." Sara grimaced. She curled a strand from Catherine's hair around her finger. "Cath, all this seems so surreal at times."

"It's very much real, babe."

"And is it okay to admit I'm a little nervous?"

Catherine covered her lover's hands in her own. "It's absolutely okay to be nervous."

Figments of Sara's earlier nightmare flashed in front of her. She mentally shook them away. She needed to stop being so quivery. She was getting married, not preparing for battle.

"So, are you hungry?" Catherine was asking.

"Famished." Sara replied.

"Let's have breakfast together." Catherine squeezed her fingers. "I have just the place in mind."

Sara smiled. "Breakfast with you? Sounds lovely."

* * *


	4. Chapter Three

This chapter has some mild spoilers from the episode, "Werewolves".

**Chapter Three**

Sara gently stomped on the brakes when she saw Catherine's Denali stop in front. She spotted Catherine opening her door. Sara frowned at the surroundings. They had stopped right in front of a shabby looking house, standing snugly amongst thorny pine trees. Similar houses were scattered away at quite a distance. A dusty roadway curved ahead.

She got a better look at the house when she jumped out of her SUV. Catherine strode towards her.

"This place looks familiar." Sara put on her sunglasses and scanned the environment.

"It should. We have been here before." Catherine gestured towards the house.

"We have? When?"

"Do you remember an Alison Ludford?"

Sara scowled. "Is that name supposed to ring a bell?"

"Not really. It was a long time ago." Catherine linked her fingers in the crook of Sara's arm. "We came here to investigate the death of a young man. His sister had anonymously notified the police of her brother's death. We later found out that the guy was killed by his best friend who also happened to be his girlfriend's brother. The killer didn't want his sister marrying the guy due to his condition."

"What condition?"

"Hypertrichosis."

"The werewolf syndrome?" Sara's eyes widened. "Are you talking about the guy's sister who was so afflicted that she had to outcast herself socially?"

"Yes, that's Alison."

Sara looked confused. "So what are we doing here?"

"I… have stayed in contact with Alison since the case was solved. After her brother died, she became all alone. She couldn't leave the house and there wasn't anyone to take care of her." Catherine looked towards the house. "I figured I could try and offer her some help. Her mother did return after a few days. But in the meantime, Alison and I had gotten quite close."

Sara stared at her incredulously. "And you are telling me this… now? The case was like, what, two years ago?"

"Alison didn't want me to tell anybody about our friendship. You must understand that she has been living like a recluse for so long, she's afraid to show herself to a stranger. If not for her brother's death, she would never have talked to me."

"But what changed?"

"Last week I told her of our marriage. That was when she professed the desire to meet you." Catherine slowly smiled. "I was waiting for a good opportunity to introduce both of you to each other."

Sara uncertainly glanced around. Meeting new people and striking up polite small talk weren't her forte. But the eager look in Catherine's eyes told her that it was important to the redhead.

"Are you okay with it?" Catherine asked, a little worried.

"If she's a part of your life…" Sara breathed. "She's a part of my life. Of course, I'm okay with it."

She beamed and pecked Sara on the cheek. "Thanks, honey. This means a lot to me."

They walked across overgrown shrubs to a turquoise colored front door. Sara picked up the brass knocker and giving her companion a brief look, she rattled it.

The door was almost immediately opened by a middle-aged woman. Her fiery brown hair seemed to have been hastily combed and pinned up. She summoned a bright smile for her guests' benefit.

"Ms. Willows."

"Mrs. Ludford, this is my fiancée, Sara Sidle." Catherine introduced.

"I've seen you before." Her face pinched in thought. "You were at the police station too."

"Yeah, I'm a CSI." Sara politely said.

Mrs. Ludford's grey eyes ran up and down Sara as if measuring her. Apparently satisfied, she opened the door wider to let them in.

"Is Alison in?" Catherine asked.

"She's waiting for you in her room." Mrs. Ludford rubbed her arms. "She has been very excited ever since you called."

Sara stood back as Catherine made her way towards a cleverly hidden door in the wall. She vaguely remembered the last time she had been in this place. She could even visualize the body lying on the living room floor and the clumps of body fur littered all over. She hadn't personally met Alison Ludford but she had conjured up an image based on what she had seen of the brother.

However, nothing could have prepared her for the person who opened the door. It took all of Sara's CSI-trained control to not gape at Alison. The "person" was dressed in a loose sweater which seemed to hang from her frail shoulders. Her hands were held together close to her chest. But the shaggy, unkempt brown mane and the frizzly facial hair of the same color almost made Sara's heart stop.

"Hi." Alison greeted. Her voice was thin and nervous. But the innocent, child-like quality in it shook Sara away from her trance. She mustered a brave smile for her benefit.

"Hi, I am Sara."

"Hi Sara." Alison lowered her eyelashes coyly. "Please come in."

Catherine didn't realize she had been holding her breath until that moment. She allowed Alison to lead them inside her sanctuary. The room was as dark as it always was. Heavy drapes covered the windows and the only source of light was the floor lamps. A large desk dominated much of one wall. A laptop and an array of electronic gadgets, which she didn't recognize, stood on it.

Sara had obviously been looking in the same direction. She walked towards it.

"Sound mixers, game controllers, audioset chips, rostrum camera, Macromedia Flash, 3D Studio Max …" She murmured in fascination. "You are creating a computer animation."

"Yes." Alison sounded delighted. "I do some freelance work for small graphic industries. But graphic animation is my real interest. I have published my work on the internet for free. Now I'm aiming for some big studios to notice my animations."

"That is wonderful, Al." Catherine was impressed. She had no idea about Alison's accomplishments. Her knowledge in technology went as far as bare necessities.

"Thanks Catherine." The girl smiled sheepishly.

"I would love to see some of your work." Sara looked genuinely interested.

"It's not that good." Alison shrunk. "I am quite adept at the graphics part. But unfortunately, I have little skill with the camera. Hayden used to be a good photographer but after he…" She let the rest of the words trail off.

Sara delicately ran a finger along the smooth lens. "If you agree, I could help you with that. I have had some training in photography."

Both Alison and Catherine blinked in surprise. Alison glanced hesitantly at Catherine, who gave a supporting nod, keeping her own doubts well hidden.

"You… I…" The girl cleared her throat. "I would like that, if it's no trouble to you."

"None at all."

The three women stood awkwardly. Thankfully, Mrs. Ludford chose to show herself at that moment. She asked them whether they would like to grab a bite of her freshly baked pecan pie. Catherine offered to help serve, leaving Sara and Alison alone. She hoped her absence would give the two women some time to get to know each other.

One of the reasons why she had never told anyone about her friendship with Alison was due to her own fear. She was aware of Grissom's policy of not being attached to the cases they handled and to be especially detached from the persons involved in those cases. It not only compromises their objectivity but it could also possibly have legal implications. She certainly could do without one of his lectures and so she never told him about Alison

But she wanted to share this part of her life with Sara. Not keeping anything from her future wife was important to her. She didn't want anything to shadow their relationship.

Catherine carefully placed slabs of pie on the plates Mrs. Ludford handed to her. She could smell the aroma of brewed coffee beans. The small kitchen was crowded with pots containing some kind of deliciously smelling broth. Catherine didn't want to ask what they were. But her dinner experience at the Ludfords had assured her that Mrs. Ludford was an excellent cook.

"She is a very nice girl." Mrs. Ludford commented.

Catherine frowned until she understood who the woman was referring to. "Sara will be glad to hear that."

"Most people wouldn't be able to hide their disgust on seeing Alison's condition." She murmured.

"Not Sara. She is not someone who judges people based on their physical appearances." Catherine stated, slightly proud.

"You must love her a lot."

"I do."

"Sometimes it saddens me to know that my daughter will never experience love of this kind." Mrs. Ludford's shoulders slumped heavily.

Catherine felt her pain. It was something she herself had thought about couple of times. Alison was a dear girl and had it not been for her condition, she would have made someone so happy. She had often wondered why life was so terribly unfair to some people. For no reason other than a genetic mutation, Alison was going to lead an existence bereft of some of the most basic pleasures.

"I suppose, I should be grateful that she has a friend like you." Mrs. Ludford managed a smile. "Hayden was her only friend and she would have been lost after his death. You have no idea how truly positive your friendship has been for her."

"I am glad you feel this way." Catherine returned the warmth. "But I really enjoy spending time with her."

The woman quickly looked away but Catherine caught her brushing away a single tear from the corner of her eye. Whatever she was feeling, they didn't discuss the topic any further.

* * *

Sara shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She wished she was a person who was at ease talking about the weather. But she wasn't and she had no idea how to begin a conversation with Alison. For her part, the young girl seemed equally nervous. 

Sara finally tried the grief angle.

"I am really sorry about your brother. I know about it, I was working on his case too."

Alison's grey eyes, not unlike her mother's, dulled. "It's not been the same since Hayden… died."

"I can understand. He was not only your brother but also your close friend."

"He was the only one I had in this world."

Sara's heart reached out at the forlorn expression on Alison's face. "I have a brother too."

"You do?"

Sara smiled. "We used to always be together when we were kids."

"He was older than you?" Alison had considerably brightened. Sara could see she was interested.

"Yeah, by two years. But I was always the sensible one." Sara gave a small laugh. "He would always get into trouble with everyone."

"And I bet even when you would do anything wrong, he'll get the blame." The girl was chuckling.

"Yes." A wave of nostalgia hit Sara. "But he did it deliberately. He would never allow me to take the punishment. He would tell the others that it was his fault."

"You two sound close."

"We were."

The past tense didn't escape Alison. "Where is he now?"

Sara swallowed a lump. "We got separated a long time ago. I don't know where he is. He never tried to contact me."

"You must miss him a lot."

"He was…" Sara searched for an appropriate term.

"Family. He was family and you felt as if no one can ever replace that connection." Alison finished off.

"Yes, that's exactly how I felt." Sara was astounded by her insight.

"I feel the same way about Hayden."

Sara reached out and covered the girl's hands in her own. Alison flinched, which puzzled her until her fingers encountered the soft blanket of fur on the girl's hand.

"It's ok." She softly worded. The girl visibly relaxed herself slightly and allowed Sara to touch her.

Sara could sense the tensed muscles in those lean hands but she understood the need for Alison to be wary. She tried her best to keep her expression neutral. She had first hand knowledge of what it felt like being an outsider in society. People usually expressed either repulsion or pity. Both emotions were equally unpleasant to the recipient.

Catherine and Mrs. Ludford appeared just then. Catherine shot Sara a questioning glance which she answered with a smile. As the smell of baked nuts and strong coffee flooded the room, Sara remembered how hungry she was. The ladies almost devoured their breakfast while trying their best to give the Ludfords the details of their upcoming marriage.

* * *

Thanks to **graveyard-cat** for pointing out a serious error! 


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

If you caught a glimpse of Anthony Butler, you would never have pictured him attending a wedding, much less managing one. He stood at a towering 6'5 and had a gym-toned body to match. Military cut blonde hair and a stylized goatee beard, complete with his gun-metal eyes and thin lips gave him the appearance of a professional bouncer. Added to that, he almost always wore a leather trench coat, completing the image.

But as soon as he caught sight of Catherine and Sara walking towards him, his face creased into the gentlest of smiles.

"Miz Willows and Miz Say-dle." He greeted with a heavy but incomprehensible accent. "You are ready, I see."

"We are always on time, Tony." Catherine tiptoed to give the man a small kiss.

"That is very true." He grinned. Tony snapped his fingers and almost instantly, two young boys appeared by his side. They looked like goats in front of a majestic bear.

"Ralph and Henry." Tony addressed them. "I want each one of you to act as the father and lead the ladies to the stage."

Sara stared amusingly at her "father". He seemed barely in his twenties. The freckles of his teens still dotted his nose.

"Are our best men and maids of honor by the stage?" Catherine tried to peer into the distance.

"They are waiting eagerly." Tony smiled. Like magic, a small book appeared in his hands. "I will act the presiding minister."

Sara looked down at the white, starched skirt which was supposed to be the rehearsal makeshift for the real wedding dress. She was already feeling extremely uncomfortable. Judging by the way Catherine was shifting restlessly, she wasn't having a very good time in it either.

"You know, I'm re-considering the entire elopement plan." Catherine whispered into her ear.

"I know." Sara croaked. "If the rehearsal is already killing me, I can't imagine what will happen on the real day."

"Breathe, girls." Tony's eyes twinkled as if he knew exactly what they were whispering about.

Accompanied by their aide, the women walked to the opposite ends of the massive hall. Wendy and Stacey were waiting for Sara and Catherine respectively.

Halfway across, Catherine turned and gulped. She had flown to Toronto, Canada the previous week to see for herself the church in which they were marrying. The sheer size of the place, coupled with the beautiful paintings had stolen her breath away. Marrying in a chapel like that had always been her dream. She had long given up that dream when she and Eddie had married in one of Vegas' seedy get-wedded-quick venues.

Here was a chance to relive that dream. They had been fortunate to get a marriage license in Canada and have a Metropolitan Community chapel and a minister willing to solemnize their nuptial. Catherine stumbled on the thick carpet and the carrot-haired boy beside her held out a hand.

"You okay?" He asked.

She nodded. He looked even more scared than her.

They reached towards their bridesmaids who subtly moved behind the "bride" and her "father". They now turned and walked down from the two ends of the aisles. Catherine could vaguely make out Sara across the vast room. The chapel they had chosen was even bigger than this and on that day would be filled with men and women come to witness their union. Catherine shivered with excitement.

The stage now loomed nearer and she could see Tony's bulky figure in the center. Nick and Nancy stood erectly by her side. Greg stood on the other side. Beside him was Lindsay. She felt her adrenaline levels spike.

Grissom was already by the podium. His passive expression was betrayed by the wink he threw the brides' way.

They once again turned and were now walking towards the center from the sides. As they approached each other, Sara and Catherine locked their gazes. A smile hovered on their lips. Catherine saw Sara silently mouth the words, "Love you" and flushed warmly. She replied "Love you" in the same way. Grinning, they turned to face their "minister". Sara and Catherine handed the rolled papers, supposed to stand for flowers, to their bridesmaids.

Tony breezed through the script and then the necessary I-dos. Then came the moment for exchanging the rings. Two tiny figures walked up through the center of the aisles. Sara couldn't help giving a small thumbs-up sign at the fair-haired girl. Brenda Collins was positively beaming. Beside her, Jeremy had his nose in the air, trying to assume a sophisticated gait. They both held a book in their hands.

"Aren't they just cute?" Catherine softly murmured.

"I saw Jeremy hitting on Brenda earlier." Sara whispered.

Catherine's eyes widened. "What?"

"Our ring holders might just have a thing for each other."

"Ahem, ladies?" Tony coughed to get their attention. They immediately turned back towards him.

"You are not supposed to be _talking_ during the ceremony." He admonished.

"Why not?" Sara protested. "Talking makes me… uh, less nervous."

"Yes, definitely less nervous." Catherine echoed.

Tony gave them a stern look.

"Right." Sara and Catherine muttered unanimously.

"So, this is the time when you cite your vows." Tony signaled towards Catherine. "You go first. And then exchange your rings."

"Okay." Catherine breathed. Sara had been right. This whole thing had a surreal feel to it.

"With the rings exchanged, the ceremony will commence."

"Hey, not yet. Don't the brides kiss each other?" Greg chirped in.

He was silenced by a sharp jab in his ribs.

"Ow, what was that for?" He looked at his tall, blonde companion.

"For being such a smartass." Stacy smirked.

"We might have to rehearse the kiss a little though." Sara gave Catherine a lopsided grin.

Catherine's brows lifted fractionally. "Remind me of that later."

* * *

There was still time for the graveyard shift to begin and the entire gang decided to huddle in for dinner. The small diner seemed to have been cramped as all of them settled in side-by-side tables. Only Grissom excused himself from joining, stating the reason that he had a previous appointment. Was he really needed elsewhere or was he merely uncomfortable being a part of such a large group, Catherine didn't know. 

Ever since she and Sara had gotten together, her relationship with Grissom had deteriorated. It hadn't been due to a conscious ill will on either side. Gil Grissom was an impossible man to read and it was hard for her to determine whether he was truly okay with everything. She had asked him several times and he had given one of his cryptic replies, which could mean anything and at the same time nothing. Catherine valued Grissom as a person and she would hate to consider herself as someone who had snatched away the one person he had wanted to love.

However, after wading through the waters of guilty conscience, Catherine had finally walked out of it. If Grissom didn't want to talk about it, there was nothing she could do. Besides, Sara had chosen her and one cannot help who one falls in love with.

"So, you know this is horrendously unfair that both of you are diving straight back to work next week." Wendy shook Catherine out of her thoughts.

"Yeah man, you guys deserve to give each other a honeymoon." Nick tsk-tsked.

"Is Ecklie the problem?" Greg asked. "Coz, you know, I could talk to Sofia and she could talk to him."

"You could talk to Sofia?" Sara's gaze darted towards him. "That's really sweet, Greg. But since when did you and Sofia become so chummy?"

"Yeah, Greg, is there something we should know?" Nick wiggled his eyebrows.

"You know, coming to think of it, I remember catching Greg and Sofia by the corridors a couple of times. They looked real cozy." Wendy smirked into her strawberry shake.

"Is Sofia that blonde detective?" Nancy asked. When the others nodded, she continued. "That time when we were all marriage shopping, she was helping Greg put on his cuff links."

Everyone whistled and Greg turned beet red. "C'mon you guys, get your minds off the gutter. There is nothing between me and her. We are just friends."

"_Just friends_?" Stacy chortled. "Up until three months ago, even Catherine and Sara were claiming to be just friends. See, where _that_ led to."

Catherine blushed while Sara concentrated extra hard on the lettuce in her sandwich.

"Alright, alright, we just had _one_ date." Greg mumbled.

"One date!" Wendy almost choked on her drink. "Whoa! What is it, romance-in-the-lab season? Should I be worried?"

"I don't think there is a reason to be. As far as I see, only beautiful women seem to be involved." Nick dodged the spoon Wendy threw his way.

"Shut up!" She snapped and pretended not to notice when he winked at her.

"It wasn't even a date." Greg absently pushed the peas around the plate. "It was just a simple dinner. I mean, she didn't even call it a date… and it just happened. She said she wanted to get something to eat… and I said we should eat together…"

The diner was suddenly impregnated with silence. Sara looked at Catherine, sitting opposite her. The same thought had crossed all their minds. Greg was a person who would boyishly brag about a woman, even if all they had was just a tiny cup of coffee together. He was bumbling when talking about Sofia. _That_ was definitely interesting.

"Well, she's a beautiful woman." Wendy finally broke the silence.

"Yeah." Sara nodded.

"Yeah." Everyone chimed in.

"Coming back to what we were originally talking about…" Stacy cleared her throat. "So, why aren't you two taking a honeymoon?"

The group once again lapsed into a playful conversation, delightfully teasing the soon-to-be couple. Unbeknownst to them, sitting in one of the long bar stools, they were being observed by a cold predator.

* * *

Thank you for the reviews!


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Sara hugged herself close as the wind threatened to blow both her coat and her away. Her heels clicked on the graveled pavestone and she was already tired walking in them. As it is, her legs had trouble moving flexibly under the petticoats and several layers of her skirt.

She looked around. Saved for the rare street lamps, there was no other source for light. There wasn't a sign of a single breathing soul. The street stretched endlessly in front of her and she saw the yellow double lines extend into nothingness. It was slightly chilly and yet Sara found perspiration soaking her dress.

Suddenly, she saw a flash of something white in front of her. With a momentum totally out of her control, Sara ran towards it. As she neared the sight, she got a clearer view.

Catherine was in her wedding dress. The satin shimmering around her legs like liquid. Catherine was staring at her. Her eyes were sharp but almost lifeless. Sara ran and ran but no matter how hard she ran, the distance between them didn't seem to lessen.

And then, in one unexpected instant, red-hot flames erupted around Catherine. The fire deliciously spread all over her beautiful fiancée. Sara suddenly stopped, her body too frozen to move. Her mind screamed for action but her muscles refused to obey.

And she watched, just watched, until she could see nothing but the devious tongues of fire licking the air. Like a blast, embers and ash blew towards her. Sara removed her hands from her face and looked down.

Her dress, her white, pristine wedding dress, was stained with blood, dust and ash.

A strong and almost inhuman cry tore from within her.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

Sara opened her eyes to stare into a pair of concerned dark eyes.

"Should I call the flight attendant?" The man fumbled with his newspaper to find the button.

"No!" Sara stopped his hands. She quickly removed them when he gave her a perplexed look. "I'm fine. I think I was having a bad dream."

He seemed far from convinced. In addition, he was becoming markedly uncomfortable. Before he could raise a racket, she forced her nicest smile.

"I'm not that good with planes. They always make me feel this way.'

He slightly eased. "I can understand. My fiancée is the same."

She looked across the aisle to the slouched forms of her fellow passengers. Most of them were fast asleep, or trying to. Some, mainly the younger ones, were engrossed in reading.

"I'll just go and wash my face." She turned to her companion. "Thanks for waking me, though."

"No problem." He shrugged and watched her stand up.

As Sara made her way towards the washroom, she gave a brief glance around. The plane was quite empty. Understandably, since it wasn't a particularly heavy traveling season. A pretty blonde, dressed smartly in her attendant uniform, stepped aside for her to pass.

Sara hardly noticed the sterile white walls of the washroom. She looked straight into the mirror. Her brown eyes contained a haunted drabness in them. But apart from that, there was nothing to suggest that she had just woken up from a near-traumatic nightmare. She repeatedly splashed water on her face and let the cold wetness sink in. Finally, a remnant of her composure restored, she wiped her face dry.

The nightmares had started to become more and more frequent. Before it would emerge in fragments and disappear before she could make any sense of it. But its nature had started to get clearer. This most recent one, where she could see Catherine and the fire as clearly as if it had really happened, had been the most terrifying.

Sara shuddered. She ran a hand through her wet tendrils and wondered whether the nightmares were caused by her nervousness due to the upcoming wedding.

_But why would I dream about Catherine being engulfed in flames and me watching everything like a powerless bystander?_ – screamed her mind.

She shook her head. She didn't believe in premonitions. At this point, she didn't _want_ to believe in premonitions.

But the eerie chill in her gut just refused to leave her alone.

She glanced at her watch. She had timed it according to the EST and by her calculations the plane would arrive at the Lester Pearson Airport of Toronto in 85 minutes.

When she returned back to her seat, her companion immediately glanced at her. Whether to make sure she was alright or just out of plain curiosity, she couldn't tell. He smiled at her which she managed to return.

"You feeling better?" He asked.

She nodded.

"Gwen's even worse when it comes to plane sickness. Once she scared half the cabin to death by claiming that she was sure the plane would crash." The man gave a short laugh. "She can be really paranoid at times."

Sara quelled the urge to snap at the man. She wondered what was the most subtle and polite way of showing that she wasn't interested in idle chitchat.

"But I still love her so much." The man was saying.

_Good for you_ – She rolled her eyes.

"I mean, why else would I marry her this weekend, right?"

Sara immediately looked at him. His expression was distant, as if he wasn't talking to her anymore.

"You are getting married this weekend?"

"Yeah." He let out a shaky smile. "Gwen is from Toronto and she wanted to marry in her hometown. I was like, it doesn't matter where you get married, you know?"

"How long have you guys known each other?"

"Two months."

Sara arched her eyebrows but didn't say anything. Who was she to judge, anyways?

"Yeah, I know it's a short while." The man gave voice to her words. "But sometimes you just click with a person and you know she is the one for life."

Sara considered, actually considered, what he said.

_Had I known Catherine was the one for me from the moment we met?_ - Her mind drifted to the first six years they had spent as mere colleagues, albeit occasionally warring ones.

_Definitely not_ – she inwardly sighed.

"Are you?" The man questioned, loudly.

"Sorry, what?" She blinked out from her thoughts.

"Are you married?" He asked again.

"No."

Something that looked like both disappointment _and_ relief crossed his face.

"But I'll soon be." She hastily added.

"Really, when?"

"This Saturday."

"You are kidding, right?" His eyes widened. "This is incredible!"

"Yeah."

"Wow, we might actually be getting married in the same Church." He looked like a five year old with a new toy.

"I highly doubt that."

"Of course, you are right, that wouldn't be possible." The man rubbed his hands. "So, don't tell me your guy is from Toronto too?"

"No, we are from Vegas."

"Vegas?" His eyebrows shot up. "That's like the marriage capital of the world. Why would you want to get married in Toronto then?"

_God, he was nosy_ – she mentally grimaced. "Because the laws in Vegas won't allow us to get married."

"What?" He scowled, not comprehending and Sara didn't venture anymore information. She hoped this riddle would occupy him until they landed at the airport.

She had obviously undermined his intelligence because he snapped his fingers. "I get it! You are talking about a same sex marriage! You are gay!"

The plane went dead silent as his shout reverberated all around. Even the sleeping, and not-so-asleep, ones woke up and were staring towards them. Sara found her entire body, redden with embarrassment.

"Well, thanks for announcing it." She muttered. His smile didn't falter even a millimeter.

"But that is wonderful!" He declared.

She didn't know whether to be worried, surprised, relieved or all of the above. "It is?"

"Of course it is!" He frowned slightly. "Don't you think it is?"

"I-I suppose it is." She sputtered.

"Oh, I even know the Church you would be getting married in. My brother is the Reverend there. I hope he's your minister."

_If he's anything like you, I hope not_ – Sara stretched her lips. "I'm not so sure about it. My fiancée handles all those details."

"That's like me and Gwen. She goes through all the nifty little details." He chuckled.

"Sounds nice." Sara wanted to push him out of the plane and began thinking of ways to do that without leaving behind any incriminating evidence.

"How long have you known her?"

_None of your Goddamn business_. "Eight years almost."

"Whoa, that's a long time!" He whistled.

_Time! I can't believe it's only been fifteen minutes since I came back from the washroom. It seems like fifteen years of torture already!_ – Sara decided to take the no-reply route. If she didn't talk, he would give up.

Either he was really dense at taking hints or he loved to hear himself talk, because he didn't stop. When she didn't answer, he assumed answers for her.

When finally, the pilot announced for them to buckle their seat belts, Sara whispered a prayer of thanks to the entire pantheon of gods and goddesses she remembered reading about.

As the plane made its smooth descent on Canadian soil, Sara could see the runway lights twinkle like sparkling stones in the fog. She felt a tingle run down her spine. This was the city where she and Catherine would be officiated with a legal married status. It didn't matter that the state of Nevada, back home, would still overlook their marriage. In her heart, she was already Catherine's and the presence or absence of a document didn't make any difference to her.

But it did make a difference to Catherine's family. Sensible or not, there was nothing like walking down the aisles in front of rows of eager onlookers and exchanging vows and rings to symbolize a lifetime of commitment.

Sara shivered. She once again felt like a high school student, anxiously awaiting news from Harvard University regarding her application.

Getting off the plane, going through the usual checks and documentations didn't take long due to little traffic and the earliness of the hour. She looked around until she spotted the familiarly massive form of Tony Butler.

"Miz Say-dle!" He grinned down at her when she finally reached him.

"Tony." She nodded.

His two young stooges, whom Sara had earlier met during the rehearsal, stood in the background. They wore dark suits and matching eyeglasses and tried to assume the pose of confidence. She secretly chuckled.

Making their way past the airport security and the jam of passengers, Tony eventually led Sara into the parking lot. A metal blue Cadillac was waiting to give them a ride to their hotel.

By the time, they reached the Delta Chelsea Hotel, Sara was exhausted. She had slept sporadically for the past few days and those occasional nightmares didn't help. Considering how much Catherine had already done, Sara thought that it was only fair if she took upon the last minute banquet hall and church planning in her hands.

But these things tired her more than she had bargained. She couldn't wait for it to be over. Her jittery nerves were firing at a rate higher than normal and she was already running on her only supply of blood sugar.

She went straight to her room and collapsed on the bed. She had only three more hours before the church opened and she had to accompany Tony there. That evening, the entire bandwagon was due to arrive and she wanted everything done by then. Her CSI colleagues had pressed for a "bachelor's" party of sorts. She thought it wasn't a bad idea.

Sara drowsily set the alarm in her wristwatch and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Sorry for the two separate chapters. Let's just say that my muse and me weren't on talking terms for a while. But now that we've made up, all's well in Fanfic City. 

Sunshine dominates until the next chapter. Dress warm for an upcoming stormy weather...


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

For the first time in a long while, Catherine found her house empty and quiet. She was in her kitchen with a mug of coffee long gone cold in front of her. Her thoughts were heavily occupied as she stared at the sun slowly rise above the horizon. Lindsay, Nancy and her mother had just left to catch the plane to Toronto. She still had some last minute affairs to conduct before leaving the city.

Catherine looked at the digital display on her oven clock. It showed 6:45 AM. She wondered what Sara was doing at that moment. Thinking about the brunette brought a smile to her lips. The next day, they would simply be putting a legal stamp over a relationship both of them had accepted in their hearts. She didn't need to walk down to the altar to be married to Sara. She could feel the woman's presence in every corner of her house. Be it the walls they had painted together, the furniture they jointly purchased, the clothes they sometimes interchangeably wore, the DVD shelves reflecting both their tastes, the books they cuddled together to read or the picture frames where neither was seen without the other; every facet of the house had Sara etched on them.

Sara had added a dash of color in, what to Catherine's opinion, was an otherwise dreary structure. Ever since she had purchased it, she had harbored dreams of making it a truly wonderful home. But her increasingly unstable relationship with Eddie, his eventual death and then Lindsay's downward spiral had robbed her of the ability to even dream.

Her fiancée's entry had changed that. Sara had proved to be the parent Lindsay always craved to have and Eddie could never manage to be. She had been the friend that every woman would envy. She had been the lover who had given so much more than just her body. And once again Catherine dared to dream. She dared to wish for a life one would dismiss as occurring only in fairytales.

Granted, they both had numerous verbal spats over the months. They both were too headstrong and stubborn to cohabit without rubbing each other the wrong way. But the makeup process after those fights just made the whole thing worth it. They did have the most beautiful sex after those arguments.

She also had to accede that Sara was truly a geek when it came to preferences. But while Sara's classical music and brooding movie preferences brought out the "intellectual" in her, she also brought out the "hipper" Sara by forcing the woman to share some of her own popular mainstream choices. All in all, in the long period of living and loving together, they had become like one individual with distinct identities.

Catherine sighed and leant back in her chair. Butterflies had taken residence in her stomach ever since the wedding preparations had started. She went to sleep each night, picturing the main event in her mind. It wouldn't really change anything as far as her relationship with Sara went. And yet, there was something special and very beautiful in getting ceremoniously married.

So absorbed had she gotten into her thoughts that she almost jumped when the phone rang.

"Willows." She answered in her habituated professionalism.

"I hate to disappoint you but this isn't Grissom with an assignment."

Catherine grinned at the voice. "Well, be ready to make it up to me."

"Yes, dear." Sara teased.

"How are things going there?"

"I'm outside the chapel." She answered. "Whoever Tony had chosen to decorate did a very good job."

"They should."

"By the way, do you know what gardenias signify?"

"There are flowers used for weddings." Catherine frowned. "It also means secret love. Why do you ask?"

"No, nothing."

"Hmm, did I ever tell you that you are terrible at lying?"

Catherine heard Sara stifle a laugh. "Someone just gave me a gardenia."

"What?" She almost dropped the phone. "Are you telling me that someone professed their secret love for you?"

"Well, according to you, gardenias do mean secret love, doesn't it?" Sara sounded highly amused which only managed to aggravate her further.

"Sara Sidle, you are flirting with someone else _one_ day before our marriage?"

"Well, technically, Catherine, it's not called flirting."

"I apologize for my limited vocabulary but what is it called then?"

"It's called widening my associations." Sara let slip a chuckle.

"I just don't see the humor in this, Sara." Catherine was seriously beginning to lose her temper. Jealousy had never been something she could control easily and when it came to Sara, her possessiveness shot up to the sky.

"Hey babe? Melissa is just five." Sara tried to soothe her now fuming lover. "You have absolutely no reason to worry."

"I'm still planning to throttle you." She hissed. "Was this supposed to be a joke?"

"A very bad one, I admit."

"Damn right!"

"Cath, I'm sorry." Sara whispered, sincerely. "I just… I just do stupid things when I'm nervous."

"That is absolutely no excuse!"

"Catherine, I said I'm sorry."

"And that too just one day before our marriage? I almost thought you were calling me to break it off." Catherine continued in a choked voice.

"Babe, I'll never do that. I'm sorry, really, really, sorry. Here, I've hit myself three times on the head, ok?"

"Call me melodramatic, but…"

"You are not melodramatic." Sara firmly put down. "I agree I wanted to make you jealous. If there's anyone who is being needy, it's me."

"Don't ever joke in this way again, ever."

"I won't."

"Now where were we?" Catherine managed a smile.

"I believe at the decorations before we got sidetracked." Abruptly, Catherine could hear Sara talking to someone else in the background. She returned and said, "Hey Cath, I have to get off now. But there's one last thing though. The bridal store forgot to put my veil in the case. Could you pick that up for me, please? I'll have Wendy pick it up from you later."

"Sure thing, babe. Anything else?"

"Nope, that will be all, thanks. See you tomorrow." Sara's voice was affectionate.

"Can't wait."

"Cath?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, only you. Remember that"

"I'll remember." Catherine suddenly didn't want to let go of the receiver. There was an unspeakable force that didn't want her to stop talking to Sara. "I love you too, Sara."

"God, I miss you."

"I do too… but I'll be there… soon. Just wait for me."

"I'll wait."

* * *

Warrick was fingering his wedding ring as he looked out of the window. He could see the spires of New York's skyscrapers poking through the clouds. In another few minutes or so, they would have passed the US-Canadian border. Not that the air space was really marked by political boundaries. Beside him, his wife of three years, Tina slept peacefully. Her left hand lay casually over her belly, where their two week old baby had just begun its growth. 

Nick and Wendy sat on the seats in front of them. Warrick smiled when he heard them tease each other. He wasn't sure whether they were just extremely close friends or something more. He was admittedly a little dumb when it came to sensing people's feelings.

Which was probably the reason that he never pursued anything with Catherine when he had the chance.

Greg was sitting across them, with Lindsay. They were apparently having an argument over Nelly Furtado's latest song.

Behind them were Catherine's sister, Nancy and her friend, Stacy. They were both absorbed in reading.

Suddenly, the plane lurched. Warrick reflexively clutched his seat rest. He flicked a glance towards Tina who was still sleeping. From out of the blue, a dense chill had wrapped itself around him.

"Yo man, what was that?" Nick had turned back, facing him.

"What, the turbulence?" Warrick tried to sound casual.

"No, not that." Nick had a puzzled frown. But there was something else. Warrick realized with a fright that whatever he had just felt, apparently Nick had too. This couldn't be good.

"We are losing it, Nicky." He tried to joke.

"Yeah." The Texan didn't sound convinced but he had spun his head away.

Warrick once again looked out. He was getting a very bad feeling about something but he couldn't point out what. However, he knew better than to just dismiss it. Over the many years of gambling, he had tuned his instincts to a fine level and had often relied on them. His gut was telling him something was indeed wrong.

He glanced at his watch, still set to the Las Vegas time zone. It showed 12:25 PM.

* * *

Grissom plucked off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose which had gotten numb. He had accomplished his mission to complete all his paperwork before he caught the 1:20 flight. He arranged all the files in a stack and pushed it to one corner of his desk. Next, he checked his overnight bag. His tuxedo was neatly packed in its own traveling bag. Grissom retrieved two jewelry boxes in rich blue. He opened it to ensure that the matching necklaces he had purchased as a gift for Catherine and Sara were intact. He snapped it shut and laid it carefully beneath his clothes. He knew next to nothing about jewelry, except that it was ultimately a product of some rare metals and minerals with specific chemical compositions. A special friend had helped him choose the necklaces. 

"You ready to leave?" Sofia tapped his office door.

"Yes, pretty much. You?"

"I am ready as ever." She smiled at him. Grissom gave her an appraising glance, albeit a purely academic one. She was a beautiful woman and her looks were only enhanced by the strong personality which enveloped her. Catherine had once teased him about his relationship with Sofia. He knew how little his blonde friend liked this other blonde detective-cum-ex CSI. But that wasn't really the reason he was never attracted towards Sofia.

As shallow as it sounded, he had to admit he liked dark-haired women better.

"Hey, you look nervous." Sofia smirked, leaning against the door frame.

"If I didn't know you better, I would have said you were mocking me." Grissom cocked his head.

"I'm making an impersonal observation."

"Ah."

"Who will be feeding your pets while you are gone?" Sofia gestured towards the glass cases.

"Sofia, they are very much adapted to endure conditions of starvation for many days. It's a truly remarkable ability."

"Yeah." She suppressed the desire to be sarcastic. Grissom and his bugs were a well known joke in the LV Crime Lab.

"Grissom!" Detective Vartann almost stumbled in.

"Detective?" Grissom arched an eyebrow.

"There was an explosion in a downtown shopping mall." The man's good-looking face seemed to have gotten the color of pale marble.

"Vartann, we are officially off until Monday. Besides, shouldn't you be asking the dayshift workers?" Sofia crossed her arms.

"Grissom needs to… he needs to know." Vartann was trembling. That fact wasn't missed by Grissom's sharp gaze.

"Detective, is everything alright?"

He held his chest as he tried taking deep breaths, while still shivering.

"Vartann, oh Christ, what is going on?" Sofia leant against him.

"A woman… a saleswoman saw a customer walk towards the parking lot before… before the explosion."

"Okay." Both Grissom and Sofia patiently waited for Vartann to come to the point.

"The sheriff… he thinks he got an ID of the cus-customer."

"And?" Sofia didn't like the terrified look in her colleague's eyes one bit.

"He thinks that customer was Catherine."

Through the morbid silence, the alarm clock beeped 12:30 PM.

* * *

_The beginning of a long, long journey into the tunnel... :P_


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven **

Sara couldn't help feeling a bit surprised when she saw who had asked for her to come down by the bar. If the shock of white hair, the weathered skin and the bent posture bore testimony to his age; his blue eyes, alert and intelligent, defined the stature that was Sam Braun.

"Sara." He acknowledged for her to join him.

"Hi Sam." She sat opposite the powerful casino owner, who was also Catherine's biological father.

"You must be wondering why I've asked you to come here." He gave her a little smile.

"I admit I'm curious, yes."

"Tomorrow is going to be a big day in Mugs' life. You happen to be a part of it."

Sara flinched at the unfeeling way he spoke. Sam was one person in Catherine's life she had never entirely warmed up to. She was sure the sentiment was returned if Sam's frequent snide remarks were anything to go by.

"You make my daughter happy." He sounded almost regretful.

"And she makes me happy."

"I'm sure she does. Mugs is a very sweet girl." Sam took a sip from his drink. "But she is also very sensitive. She has been through a lot."

Sara wrung her hands impatiently. "If this is your way of asking me to make sure I'll never hurt Catherine…"

He raised his hands to stop whatever she was about to say. "Do you know why I never married?"

"Beats me." She murmured sarcastically.

He let it slide. "Being married means you need to be responsible in making the right decision not only for yourself but also for the person you are married to."

Sara didn't know what to say so she kept quiet.

"I want you to tell me that when the time comes, I can trust you to make the right decision for Catherine and Lindsay." His gaze was intense.

Sara frowned. "Their interests are above mine, Sam. I will always look out for them."

"Even at the cost of yourself?"

"Even at the cost of myself." Sara returned without hesitation.

"Good." He raised his glass. "To Catherine."

* * *

Sofia felt her heart palpitate in her ears as she entered the ward where Helen Williams was resting. A pretty woman, in her mid-twenties, looked up and smiled at Sofia. 

"Hi, I'm Detective Curtis." Sofia softly said. "I have to ask you a few questions about the explosion."

"Sure." Helen's smile faded.

"I understand that you saw a woman step into the parking lot before…" Sofia swallowed hard. "Before the explosion."

"Yes."

"And can you tell me about her?"

Helen looked away. "She was such a beautiful woman. Pretty blonde hair, nice voice and looked so happy…"

Sofia saw Helen shudder.

"She was picking up her bridal gown from the store. She gave her credit card for payment but then forgot to take it back. And then I noticed her card lying there. So I ran after her to return it. I was in the second floor and I looked down and saw her making her way towards the parking lot. I called after her but she didn't listen. I tried to race down and that's when…" Helen's ebony face paled considerably. "That's when I saw a big explosion and the next thing I knew, there was this huge sound… and then people started shouting… glass flew all over."

Sofia struggled to maintain her composure. "Are you sure the woman would have been… affected?"

Helen shut her eyes. "I'll never forget that scene. It looked like one of those really graphic action movies where you can actually see the body blow up." She paused, trying to speak through her dry throat. "I saw it. It all happened in front of me and I'll never forget that till I live."

Tears began streaming down Helen's face. Sofia could only imagine how horrific such an experience would be to a woman like her. Even after years in police service, she was still sickened by the violence that she had to witness sometimes.

"Y-you know the name of the woman?"

"I was calling her name out several times." Helen sobbed. "I read it from the credit card. It was… Catherine Willows."

Sofia held on to one of the bed posts to steady herself. She didn't know how she felt. But she did know that in a few seconds, she would be on the ground writhing in nausea.

"It was terrible. She was such a beautiful person… and she was… she was getting married… that's why she was there… she was picking up her dress… it was one of our store's special designs… and… oh Lord…." A fresh round of whimper broke from Helen.

_Married… dress… Sara!_ – Sofia found her heart breaking and she tried to stabilize herself – _No, I can't jump to conclusions. I have to remain calm. I have to make sure that Helen is indeed talking about Catherine. After all, people can steal credit cards. There are probably thousands of beautiful women with nice blonde hair… _

_…Thousands of beautiful women with nice blonde hair who is getting married tomorrow…? _- Sofia gasped.

_Stop it, _ _Sofia_ – She chided herself -_You can't break down now! _

"Can you recognize the woman if I showed you her picture?" Sofia's voice sounded entirely foreign to her.

"I-I guess." Helen wiped her face.

Sofia retrieved a snapshot of Catherine she had printed from the LVPD Employee Database. It was a few years old but it didn't look all that different from the Catherine of now. She showed the picture to the woman, praying with everything she had.

Helen squinted and tilted her head. She then gave a small shrug. "I can't be too sure… but I think that's her. She had the same color hair and the same style too. The face… can't be too certain… but I think she had the same structure…"

Sofia's gut was sinking to her feet. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Of course, I'm not absolutely sure!" Helen snapped. "I hardly got to see her.'

Sofia exhaled. "I'm sorry, Helen. Is there anything you can tell me about her?"

"She had on a green sweater… I remember coz I have the same sweater but in red."

"Anything else?"

Helen shook her head.

Catherine's face stared back at her when Sofia looked at the picture in her hands. Smiling, gorgeous and poised – Catherine was an embodiment of strength and beauty.

And she was also possibly dead.

"I never got a chance to be her friend …" Sofia was hardly aware that she was murmuring.

* * *

Sara collapsed exhaustedly on one of the large couches. She propped her head on her knuckles and watched the crowds of people feeling and rubbing against each other. Some she recognized – they were her own guests. Many she didn't. Those were random strangers who were now intermingling with each other, in the hopes of getting laid later that night. The arc lights, bouncing off the walls and waving across sweat-slicked bodies, were giving her a headache. The music pounding in her eardrums didn't help either. But she couldn't leave yet. 

"Hey!" Nancy yelled through the ruckus.

Sara smiled up at her friend and soon-to-be-sister-in-law.

"Want a beer?" Nancy asked.

"What?"

"A beer!" Nancy waved the said bottle in front of her. Sara took it and nodded her thanks.

"Are you tired?"

"Very!" Sara shouted.

Nancy looked around. "Why don't you get some sleep? I'll manage here."

She shook her head. "Thanks but not yet!"

"Did you try the dance floor?"

"Yes!" Sara grimaced. "Little wonder I'm tired."

"Sara!" Nancy leant forward so that she was almost speaking into the woman's ears. "You have a long, long day ahead of you. Get some rest. But in case, you are waiting up for Catherine, you could do that with Lindsay."

Sara grinned at the last sentence. "No, I'm not waiting for Catherine. Besides, Lily is probably guarding her room as we speak."

"Knowing my mom, that's very much possible."

"But you are right; I need to talk with Lindsay. I've hardly spoken to her since she arrived."

"You do that! I'll tell the others you are catching up on your beauty sleep." Nancy patted her shoulders. "Not that you need any."

"Charm is genetic." Sara kissed Nancy on the cheek. "Thanks and goodnight."

* * *

Sofia found Grissom standing outside the ward room. He threw her a brief glance. 

"Vartann called Catherine's cell phone and her home number. The first gives a busy signal. The second rings without anyone picking up. The airport officials reported that Catherine hadn't boarded her flight." He informed her.

A pregnant silence passed between them. Any spark of distant hope they had was slowly dying.

"The sheriff sent men to her house. No one answered the door…" He looked away.

Sofia noticed the dispassion in Grissom's face. Anyone else would have assumed that he didn't care much. But the manner, in which he was avoiding her gaze and the forced slowness in his speech, showed her that every word was being wrenched from within him.

"We need to get everyone back here… even…" She exhaled. "Sara."

Mentioning Sara's name seemed to have shaken him out of his tightly controlled emotions. He fell against the wall, his head raised upwards. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, desperately trying to force voice out. But only his lips managed to move.

Sofia placed a hand on his shoulder, well aware that no matter what she did, she couldn't lessen the sorrow.

"What am I going to tell Sara?" He croaked. "How will I tell her?"

"Someone has to." Sofia struggled to not break. "We need the team back here. They need to know."

"Yes. They are all waiting… for tomorrow… for celebration… for festivity. And we need to tell them that none of that is going to happen." Grissom's voice broke.

This time Sofia didn't try to stop the tears running down her cheeks.

* * *

Sara opened her room and found Lindsay standing by herself in the balcony. 

They were sharing a double room for that night. Catherine had insisted on having their honeymoon suite for the night. She wanted to, in her own words; put some "finishing touches".

"Hey kiddo, what are you doing?" Sara walked up to the girl.

"Hey Sara." Lindsay surreptitiously wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. Sara didn't miss it.

"Honey, why are you crying?" She knelt down and then noticed the picture in the girl's hand. Sara realized, wincing, that it was of Eddie's.

"I was just talking to Daddy." Lindsay gave a wry smile. "I know it sounds silly, but…"

"No, it doesn't sound silly." Sara carefully rubbed the tear stains from Lindsay's cheek.

"I talk to him… sometimes." Lindsay hung her head. "Mom doesn't know."

"I won't tell her."

"Sara?" Lindsay slouched down. "What do you think happens to people when they die?"

Sara sat down cross-legged. "You know, when I was a little younger than you, I went to live with a really sweet lady. She took good care of me and kids like me. Anyways, one day I found a dog in the wilds. He was so badly wounded that I brought him home. He stayed with me for a couple of months and became my pet. But he never really got better and he died." Sara licked her lips. "I cried for a long time. But then this lady came up to me and do you know what she said? She said that people who love you never really die. A part of them remains alive, with you, loving you, looking out for you."

"Daddy never really looked out for me. Not like the way you and Mom do." Lindsay whispered.

"He must have loved you. Some people have different ways of showing it.'

"He was nice to me and gave me everything only because he and Mom were like, in some kinda competition. He was good to me but he used to hurt Mom. I don't think I can forgive him for that."

"Lindsay…" Sara brought the girl close for a hug.

"I didn't know that time… I thought he loved me." The girl rested her head on Sara's shoulder. "But how could he have loved me and yet never been there for me?"

Sara understood what Lindsay was going through. She knew, from personal experience, the internal conflict of having a parent whose actions were worst than an enemy's.

"When Mom told me you guys were dating, I hated it."

Sara froze. She never knew that.

"If you and Mom were just friends; that would mean you'll be around forever. But the people Mom dates, don't stay for long. I was afraid that very soon you guys would get tired of dating and you would… leave us."

Sara was touched at those heartfelt words. She stroked Lindsay's blonde tresses and kissed her on the brow. "Lindsay, I can't speak for the future. I can't say what's going to happen. But I can promise you this much that no matter what happens, I'll always be there when you need me."

"I don't ever want you and Mom to leave me, ever." Lindsay wrapped her arms tight around Sara. "But I'm so scared, Sara…"

"Shhh… honey." Sara looked out into the night. "Know that wherever we are, your Mom and I love you… we always will."

* * *

Brass was trying out the suit he was to wear the next day. He ran a hand across his hairline and noticed how it had receded even more. The wrinkles on his face had deepened and his bones and muscles had started to complain after only a little exertion. In short, with every day, he was getting close to the "elderly age". 

Not that he specifically resented aging. He had been in the police force for decades now and it had become his entire life, to the exclusion of even his family. But now, he did look forward to retiring and spend his days fishing or reading.

His cellphone rang. He contemplated whether to pick it up or leave it. But his cop instincts were shaped for responding to all calls, regardless of where he was or what he was doing.

Brass relaxed when he saw Grissom's number flash in his display.

"Hello?" He answered.

"Jim, Gil here." Brass almost thought it was someone else. Grissom sounded different.

"Are you alone?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah… was just about to go and catch a wink."

"There's something I have to tell you."

Seconds later, Brass' phone fell from his benumbed hands. His legs wobbled as he felt the ground drop from beneath them. His friend's words faded into a blur and the only thing that appeared in front of him was Catherine's face.

* * *

The big question: Is Catherine **_dead_**? 

Answer: I still love happy endings... (smiles) but happy endings come in so many different packages... (smiles turn mischievous)

Thank you for reading and reviewing! Keep comin', keep comin' !


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

The dance floor throbbed with the skills of the DJ and the thumping of bodies. As the night extended, the crowds got tighter and adrenaline soared higher.

Brass spotted Nick, Wendy, Warrick and Tina close together in the bar. Greg was nearby, charming a petite brunette. All around him, people were smiling, chatting, laughing, joking, dancing, kissing and drinking. Everyone was enjoying themselves.

And Brass knew that in one instant, in one horrifying instant, he could shatter all the celebrations. He was going to be the harbinger of the bad news, the dark angel to erase all their smiles.

He wished he could run back to his room and puke his guts out.

"Jim?" Brass turned to face Catherine's sister. In the pulsating darkness, she looked so much like Catherine that his heart almost stopped.

"Jim?" Nancy repeated, touching his arm. "Are you alright? You look pale."

"Grissom called me." He weakly murmured.

"What?" She strained her ears against the noise.

"Grissom called me.'

"I can't hear you… I…" A waiter appeared by her side and shouted something into her ear. "Hey… sorry… I have to go… but, get some sleep, ok?"

_Sleep?_ Brass had the dreadful feeling that sleep was going to be out of the question for a long, long while.

He turned back to his team of CSIs. Warrick was the first one to notice him approach them.

"Hey Brass, come and join us for a beer."

Brass didn't reply. All his efforts went in trying to remain on his feet.

"Hey man, are you ok?" Nick frowned in worry. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"I need to talk to all of you. Meet me outside."

They all exchanged concerned glances. "What is going on?" Wendy asked.

"I'll tell you… but not here…" He swallowed. "Just get everyone outside."

Tina, who saw the seriousness on Brass' face, gently whispered to her husband. "I think we should do as he says."

Warrick nodded, watching Brass leave the club.

* * *

Brass paced the outside lobby to keep himself from shivering. The air from the vents seemed to be seeping into his bones to chill them. When he heard the clicking of shoes on the smooth tiles, he looked up. 

"Ok, I got hold of only us." Warrick gestured around. Sure enough, there was him, Nick, Greg, Wendy, Stacy and Nancy.

Brass nodded. He was more than glad that Sara or Lindsay weren't among them. It was going to be hard enough telling them.

"Grissom called me… earlier." Brass shoved his hands in his coat pockets to stop them from quivering. "There was an explosion in the parking lot of The Boulevard."

"Is that why he's not here yet?" Greg questioned. "He's working the case?"

"No, he is…" Brass wet his lips. "He stayed behind for something else. There are reported to be around ten casualties in that explosion. Two shifts of CSIs are working on the case but it's still shorthanded. The… sheriff would have let Grissom and Sofia leave if… if he didn't suspect that… that…"

"Jim, what is it?" Warrick moved closer. He had never seen the Captain so mortified. The man's coolness could even outrival Grissom's.

Brass breathed to summon strength. "If he didn't suspect that Catherine had been in that explosion." He quickly closed his eyes, knowing that the looks on the others' faces would be too much for him to bear.

"What?" Greg murmured harshly after a long moment of silence. He strode up to Brass and took the man by his shoulders. "It's a joke, right? You are kidding… right? Right? Tell me you are kidding." He choked. "Tell me you are kidding!"

"Wait… you said that they suspect." Nick struggled to form words. "What do you mean? As in, they are not sure, right? She could very well be on her way… here… yeah, they are not sure. It could be a big mistake."

"Grissom called Catherine, both in her cell and her at her house. They didn't want to but Vartann and his men unofficially broke into her house. Her suitcases are still by the door. She isn't home. She never got on her plane. And there's an eyewitness who saw her…" A cry was battling inside Brass. "Who saw her in the blast. They even got her… credit card."

"It could mean nothing… it could mean absolutely nothing." Warrick stated vehemently. "Even Grissom can make mistakes… we all make mistakes."

Nancy, who had been standing shell-shocked at the news, looked up and her gaze fell directly on the stairs.

"Oh shit!" She exclaimed. Everyone glanced up her way and then followed her line of vision. When he saw what she saw, Nick found his pulse drop to nothing.

There standing on the stairs, watching them, listening to everything they said, was Sara.

* * *

Brass had made a career on quick action. In his line of work, one second of indecision could cost someone a life. But right then, he felt as if he was suspended in a perpetual state of indecision. Seeing Sara on the stairs, having little doubt that she had heard everything, he just wanted to escape and pretend none of this was happening.

"Sara…" He saw Wendy walk up to the brunette.

Sara was standing immobile. Her knuckles were white against the banister she gripped so firmly.

Wendy slowly reached out a hand. Sara's hand was cool on touch. Her eyes were so vacant; she could very well have been staring into nothing. Her lips were tightly sealed together. Her chest heaved with every labored breath she took.

"Sara." Wendy tried again. When Sara didn't respond, she knew she had no other choice. She shook Sara's hand, slowly at first but gradually heightened the intensity.

Sara finally turned to give her a blank look.

Everyone held their breaths. None of them were really sure what they were expecting from Sara. Hell, none of them knew what they should be expecting from themselves. The news had stunned them all to the degree where their minds and the rest of their bodies had stopped being in sync.

"We should get back to Vegas." Sara whispered but her words echoed louder than any shout could. Saying that, she spun around and climbed up the stairs.

* * *

_Uh oh..._

_Once again, thanks for the reviews:)_


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

Words lost their significance, actions stopped speaking and gazes never could be met after that. They broke the news to their guests and friends slowly. The wedding had to be cancelled and there was no polite way of doing that. They all went through the necessary work mechanically.

Maybe a dim glimmer of hope still resided within them. Maybe they felt that not facing the pain in their hearts would make the process easier. Maybe they were just too shocked to even realize they were in pain. Maybe… maybe…

There were just these "maybes" now. Sureties had been crushed along with everything they had dreamt for the wedding day.

The hardest part had been to break the news to Lindsay. No one had a clue as to how they should tell the little girl about her mother. Finally, Lily insisted that Lindsay should only be told that Catherine's been in an accident. There was no reason to tell her the truth until after they reach Vegas…

* * *

Sofia rubbed her neck tiredly. She had pulled almost twenty four hours of non-stop work. She had even forgotten when the last time she had slept was. Time had lost its meaning for the people in the Crime Lab. This was no more just another high profile case.

DNA techs, trace workers, bomb experts, all were pouring over whatever they collected. But perhaps nature, in general, seems to have a grudge against them. That morning, a heavy storm had drenched the city of Vegas and reduced the crime scene into a huge soggy mass.

She had gotten a call from Brass informing that everyone was making their way back to Vegas. Sofia had wanted to ask him how they were handling it, when she stopped herself. She wasn't sure she really wanted to hear an answer.

She found Grissom in the break room. His eyes were glued on the wall somewhere between the vending machine and the coffee pot.

"Hey." She announced herself softly. He didn't look up but greeted back.

"What's the progress with Harper's guys so far?" Grissom asked.

"The storm and the media flurry aren't helping matters. The evidence is being washed down the drains faster than we can recover."

"Have we found the bomb yet?"

Sofia slumped. "No. The rubbles are lain down in layers. The CSIs have only been able to go through one quarter of them."

Grissom clenched his fist. "So, in other words, the investigation is getting nowhere?"

"Grissom, everyone's doing their best…" Sofia's voice trailed off when her sight fell upon the glass walls separating the break room from the corridors. "Grissom."

"What?" He looked up at where she was staring.

Standing in the corridors, looking at them, were his friends, his colleagues and also his biggest nightmare. Nick's palm rested upon the glass, as if he was trying to steady himself. Greg had his arms around Wendy and both appeared to be trembling. Warrick towered from behind them. His dark, handsome face was creased with tightly controlled anxiety. Nancy was holding her mother together, undoubtedly to prevent her from breaking into sobs. Stacy Connor stood with her arms folded and her eyes haunted.

But Grissom's breath lodged in his throat with a painful thud when he saw Sara walk into the break room. At that moment, he found his eyes blur. He had never cried since he had been an adolescent who had gotten a C in biology. But right then, he felt his heart burst with unshed tears.

"Sara." He heard Sofia whisper from beside him.

Sara came towards them and then stopped at a little distance. Her face was set in a cold mask. There wasn't the barest trace of emotion in those eyes. They looked as lifeless as a pair of black glassy orb. The lips were thinned, the muscles slackened.

Unconsciously, Sofia shivered.

"Sara?" Grissom called out softly, almost afraid that his voice would shatter her.

"What do we know so far?" She asked.

Grissom exchanged a brief look with Sofia.

"Dayshift is processing the explosion site right now. They have collected blood samples, skin samples and anything they can, for DNA. Relatives and friends have provided clothes, combs, those things, for DNA comparisons. There are around nineteen people injured and we estimate around seven to eight casualties." Sofia looked away from Sara.

"Any information on the explosives?"

"They are still scavenging the area." Sofia replied evasively. She wondered how much she should tell Sara and how much she should leave out. Sara was an expert CSI. But right now, she also happened to be a possible victim's family.

"Gil." Lily Flynn walked inside the room. "Just tell me this much… do you think Catherine was in that blast?"

Grissom looked into her eyes. Unlike her daughter's, they were a bright hazel. But very like her daughter's, the brightness came from experience and learnt survival intelligence. He knew he could lie but that wasn't something he ever resorted to. He hated lying, partly because he wasn't good at it. And now, here was a mother, asking for answers and both lying and telling the truth was an option he found impossible to take.

"Lily, there is an eyewitness who _thinks_ she saw Catherine in the parking lot before the blast." He held the older woman's hand. "But nothing is confirmed as yet."

"And meanwhile… what should we do?" She cupped her hands in front of her mouth. "Should we harbor hopes or should we just abandon it?"

He stared helplessly at her. Hopes were something he didn't have, much less offer.

"I don't know." He answered in honesty.

Sara reached out and Lily fell like a rag doll in her arms. Then Nancy arrived to take her mother out of the room. She looked up at Sara.

"Are you coming?"

Sara gave a small shake of her head.

They watched as Nancy and Lily slowly trudged their way out. His team was here and Grissom knew that it was his responsibility to direct them. They had seen the worst over the years and they had all gotten through it together.

… Except Catherine had been with them earlier.

"Wendy, I want you in the DNA lab. Samples are backlogged to the brim." Wendy didn't hesitate and immediately was on her heels.

"Greg." Grissom turned towards their youngest member. "For today, I want you back as a lab technician. The lab is extremely shorthanded."

"I'm on it."

"Nick, I want you with the bomb squad. The dayshift bomb expert is away on a conference and it will take him time to return. I want you on it ASAP."

"Warrick, process the crime scene. We could do with as many hands as possible before the rain completely washes away any evidence."

Warrick and Nick nodded and sped away, anxious to get some work done.

"And what about me?" Sara asked.

Sofia, aware of the upcoming tension, politely excused herself. She had to interview the administrative staff of The Boulevard. With Sofia gone, and only him and Sara in the break room, Grissom could feel the weight of the gloom that hung in the air.

"Sara, if you want to take a few days off…"

"No, I don't."

He licked his lips to try and form his words in an appropriate way. "I don't think you should… work the case."

"Why, because of conflict of interest?" She challenged.

"One of the reasons."

"About Catherine, nothing is… confirmed. Therefore, there is no legal conflict of interest, yet."

He let out a deep breath. "It's not just the legal part I'm worried about."

Her jaws were set. "I'm okay."

"No, you are not okay." And then he cringed. If there ever was a worse moment to have terrible people's skills, he didn't know it.

"I'm okay." She repeated firmly. "You think I'm not capable enough?"

"You know your capability is not the issue here."

"Then give the orders. I want to be out there, processing the scene. You yourself said we need as many hands as possible."

"Yes, but…"

"Grissom, just do it." She sounded almost pleading and that made him stop. He had known Sara for so long and yet sometimes he felt he didn't know her at all. But if there was one thing he was absolutely certain about her, it was the fact that her work was her therapy.

"Alright."

* * *


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

Warrick tenderly stepped over the pile of wreckage. His shoes dug into a wet mass of indeterminate nature. A voice inside winced as he realized he might just have compromised an evidence.

"Only two CSIs working on the scene?" Nick came up from behind him.

"That would be Harper's team." Warrick said grimly. "The guy's a second Ecklie. His people are probably sticking their faces to the media cameras."

"While the evidence dissolves." Nick shook his head in disgust. "I'll go speak with the Fire and Rescue Chief out there."

Warrick noticed Sara making her way towards the core of the scene. He had been a little surprised to know that Grissom had allowed her to work on the case. Not that he doubted her efficiency. Her expertise as a CSI was beyond question. What he feared was her emotional condition on seeing the explosion site.

"Sara?" He called out. Why, he didn't know.

She half turned towards him.

Questions, consolations and other such statements played at the base of his vocal chords. But he only managed to say, "You want to take the area near the mall building? I'll do the exteriors."

She gave a slight shrug. "Okay."

"Warrick Brown?"

Warrick turned to face the voice. He almost rolled his eyes when he saw who had addressed him.

"Arnold Harper, how are you?" Warrick greeted him wryly.

Harper gave a practiced sigh. "I'm grieved by this tragedy. But otherwise, I'm doing quite well."

Harper was a second Ecklie alright. His pressed Hugo Boss suit, well-slicked hair and 100-watt smile made for a perfect magazine picture. Warrick gave a brief glance towards the man's shoes and immediately knew how much time Harper must have actually spent working on the scene. The black shoes gleamed.

"So, what are you guys doing here? Weren't you supposed to be at a _marriage_?" Harper had on an innocent look.

Warrick quickly looked around to see if Sara was nearby. He was relieved to see she was too far away to have heard the ass' comments. He turned back towards Harper, his nostrils flared in anger.

"Look Harper, if you don't want trouble, you better keep your horseshit comments to yourself. One of our own might be in there and you are standing here mocking?"

"Whoa, buddy, I'm the last person who wants trouble out here." Harper raised his hands. "All I'm saying is, this is _my _crime scene. What are you night owls doing here, snooping around?"

"Yeah, I can see how well you're handling the scene." Warrick shot a deliberate look at the unprocessed area and the two bored CSIs.

"Okay, okay, back off both of you." Brass laid a restraining hand on Warrick. "Harper, orders are for complete cooperation. If you have a problem, you take it up with the director."

The man looked from Brass to a fuming Warrick and gave one of his fake smiles. "I have no problem. I'm all for cooperation."

"Thanks." Brass returned sarcastically. As Harper sauntered away, he patted Warrick's shoulder. "Hey War, don't mind him, ok? You have far more important things to do."

Warrick curled his fingers into a ball. "Yeah."

* * *

Sara picked up a damp piece of metal. Despite the blackened surface, she recognized the Chesapeake blue car paint. Stuck along the edges were what looked like burnt human tissue with blood glued on it. She bagged it. She tried to not put a face to the tissue. But it was harder than usual.

"Hi, you are Sara Sidle, am I right?" A young woman, probably fresh out of forensic academy, was smiling down at her. The name tag on her CSI vest read, "Simmons".

"Yes." Sara replied.

"I'm Janet Simmons." The woman stretched out her hand for a shake. Then she realized that Sara was in her gloves and blushed sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

Sara shrugged, eager to return back to her work.

"I used to work at the San Francisco Crime Lab. You are quite a name out there. Particularly with Dr. Todd."

The name Todd struck a vague bell in Sara's mind. However, she neither had the purpose nor the inclination to pursue it.

"Do you have a theory on what happened here?" Janet asked.

Sara scooped up what looked like mud but on closer inspection was a mixture of char, blood and dust, all soaked in rainwater. "An explosion." She answered passively.

"Oh no, I don't think the bomb caused all that much damage." The younger CSI knelt down. "We have found bits and pieces of the explosive. But according to Bomb Squad, the explosive couldn't have been very powerful. You see that?" She pointed towards what looked like a remnant of plastic. "It's a piece left over of a butane tank."

Sara looked at the white plastic in Janet's hand. She knew what it meant. The bomb had provided just the spark to ignite the fuel. "Do you know how many of these tanks were here?"

"We talked to the owner of the truck. According to his estimate, around fifteen."

"Around fifteen." Sara repeated in such a low whisper that Janet wondered whether she had really spoken at all.

"Whoever planted the bomb must have known the truck's going to be here… or…" Janet waved her hands around the devastation. "This was an extremely unfortunate coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidences."

Janet frowned perplexedly. Along with Sara's forensic skills, her interpersonal deficiencies were also legendary. But she hadn't expected such a cold reception from Sara.

_No, not just cold_ – Janet observed. There was something in Sara's countenance that reminded her of Dry Ice: painfully freezing and highly unstable.

* * *

Nick stopped himself from cursing loudly when the sky began pouring once again. Barely two hours of dry weather had passed since the last rainfall. The Bomb Squad Chief was going through all the possible scenarios while his men scanned for the source. Nick found the information muddling inside his brain and that unsettled him. He was usually able to concentrate with unadulterated attention when on a crime scene. But this time, the destruction all around him was more than just distracting.

Wherever he turned, all he could visualize was Catherine's blown up remains.

"Hey, I think we found something." He heard someone shout out.

"What is that?" Nick stared at the badly burned leftovers in the man's hand.

"By the texture, I would say a tire, most probably a spare tire. These are the bomb shells. Here's the fuse, or what's remained of it."

Nick gingerly touched it. Pieces of powdery ash fell off on impact with his fingers. "So, you are saying the bomb was in the car."

"Yep."

Nick bagged the remains. If he could get the tire shreds to trace, there was a good chance he could track it back to the original vehicle. He peered over at the ground. The metal scraps scattered all over definitely looked like remnants of a car. "If someone was driving this car, there's a good chance I'll find their DNA."

"That's your job." The Chief remarked.

Nick crouched down, careful to not move around much. With the rainfall and the degree of dispersal, important evidences were caked all over the floor. He moved aside what he guessed was a fragment from the car door. A solid, curve-shaped substance was stuck through shattered glass. Its surface was covered in dark burgundy.

Nick carefully bagged the steering wheel. He looked around and felt a bout of nausea. Despite the shredded seat covers, metal and other ruined material spread all over, it wasn't all too difficult to identify torn human flesh soused in pools of blood. He placed one gloved hand over his nose and swallowed. At this point, it was hard to determine whether these were remains of one person or multiple. However, if he had to guess, he would say one. Not that, it made the horror any less.

He looked around and saw huge birds circling the air. Scavengers were extremely rare in urban locations like these. But even they can smell the lure of blood from a distance and fly towards their feast.

The gray clouds, the ominous flying creatures and the huge tear-like drops spattering on the ground – Mother Nature was expressing her sorrow.

* * *

On the other side of the crime scene tape, reporters and bystanders wrestled against each other to get a better view. Standing amidst them, a man removed his parka hood and let his hair soak in the rainwater. He felt an overwhelming sense of peace, gotten through a job well done. His first set of plans had run smoothly and now he couldn't wait to witness the aftereffects.

* * *


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

Sara stared at the partial reflection cast upon the glass windows. On account of the tragic blast, The Boulevard had closed business until further notice. Shutters now stood starkly against every store front. The usually bedazzled interiors were now illuminated by only few head lights.

However, media frenzy hadn't abated and the news channels tirelessly pursued every available person for some juicy tidbits. Sara had slowly proceeded towards the interior of the building and away from the explosion site. But searching for evidence wasn't the only reason why she was standing on the second floor, looking into one of the larger stores. The extinguished neon sign read, "Krystal Devon's Bridal Boutique".

>>

"_Drop waist Taffeta gown with shirred strapless bodice. Full skirt with chapel train." A matronly woman held out a gown in front of Sara. "You can order your color choices and there are optional spaghetti straps if you prefer."_

_Sara forced a smile. "Beautiful."_

"_What about that one?" Catherine pointed to a material shimmering upon a svelte mannequin. _

"_Now that one is a Krystal Devon specialty."_ _The woman's eyes sparkled with pride. "It's a pure satin and Organza gown. This is high fabric draped skirt."_

_Catherine turned towards Sara. "What do you think?"_

"_I think they all look alike." Sara replied._

_Catherine rolled her eyes good-naturedly. The saleswoman had begun showing them two more dresses and Sara's mind reeled with the various designers' jargon. _

"_Okay, so which one would look good on me?" Catherine picked up the very first dress they had seen. "I like the lattice front on this one." Then she gestured towards the gown in satin. "But that one just looks sinfully elegant."_

"_Both are good." Sara stated after analyzing the dresses as best as she could._

"_Sara, you are no help!" _

_She sighed. "Cath, I think you look like a goddess even in your pajamas. I'm the wrong person to ask."_

"_This one would look so pretty on you. It will really accentuate your bone structure." The smiling woman held out a sleek gown against Sara. "You see the trumpet-styled skirt and the sweep train at the bottom…"_

"_Whoa!" Sara raised a hand to stop the gracious lady from another one of her Armani brochure lectures. "It's very nice. Really nice. Thank you."_

"_Sara, what do you think of those?" Catherine pointed towards a pair of smaller sized dresses._

"_Catherine, it's in pink!" Sara exclaimed, horrified._

"_Yeah, so?"_

"_I don't like pink."_

_Catherine let out an exasperated sigh. "Those are not for you. I meant for our bridesmaids."_

"_We have to choose dresses for them too? Why can't they do it themselves?"_

"_Because, honey, we are the brides."_

_Sara grimaced. "Can we get something other than pink? That color is almost nauseating."_

"_Shopping is such a chore with you!" Catherine complained but she smiled. Sara had on one of the cutest expressions of annoyance. _

"_Both of you are getting married?" The saleswoman, who had been listening to their banter for a while, couldn't resist asking._

"_Yeah."_ _They answered simultaneously._

"_To each other?"_

"_Yeah."_

_The woman ran a hand across her tightly coiffed gray hair. "Oh! You two suit each other."_

_Sara smirked. "We didn't really want to marry. It's just that she's pregnant with our child and it was the right thing to do."_

_Confusion and bewilderment fell on the woman's face like a ton of bricks. Catherine glared towards Sara and then muttered, "I'm sorry. She has a weird sense of humor, sometimes."_

"_I so do not, honeypie." Sara said in a syrupy voice._

"_I have a feeling I'll not be able to return to this store in the next million years." Catherine looked around in embarrassment._

"_You know, darling, I was thinking of calling our son Tommy." Sara continued chirping._

"_That's a dog's name." _

"_You are right. How about Gil?" Laughter was bubbling on the brunette's lips._

"_I don't want to wake up one night to find him playing with cockroaches."_

_They went towards one of the fitting rooms. Several life-sized mirrors donned the wall. Hangar stands stood precariously against the weight of the dresses. A group of women were just about done and leaving._

"_I was thinking Conrad isn't a bad name." Sara scrunched up her nose as if in thought._

"_Gives me the creeps."_ _Catherine hung the dresses on the stand. "Besides, imagine what our son's nickname will be… Connie?"_

"_Point."_

"_I know!" Sara and Catherine turned towards a stout, angel-faced woman, beaming eagerly at them. "You guys should name your kid Gregory!"_

_>>_

"Sara?"

Sara snapped back to the present to find Greg standing beside her.

"Greg, what are you doing here?" She blinked several times, not sure whether this was reality or an extension of her memory.

"Grissom asked all of us to get home and have some rest before coming back to work." Greg's features softened. "I thought I'll stop by and see how you are doing."

Sara turned away from him, not responding.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" He asked, worried.

"Nope."

"Well, I got you some veggie kebabs." He held up a paper bag that smelled of barbecued spices.

"Thanks Greg but I'm not really hungry."

Greg stood with his hands hooked onto his jeans. "You want me to drive you home?"

Sara closed her eyes and shook her head.

Greg watched his friend helplessly. Back in the lab, everyone had been concerned about Sara's behavior. Their in-work counselor had theorized that Sara was bottling up everything inside of her and that wasn't a good thing. She needed to find an outlet to her grief or else it could have detrimental effects on her physical and mental health.

But while Greg prided himself on being personally comfortable with just about anyone on the planet, he was at a loss right then. Struggling with his own emotions, he didn't know how to draw Sara out of this shell or comfort her when she crumbles.

Just then his phone rang. Keeping an eye on Sara, he picked it up.

"Oh hey Nick… yeah… yeah…" Greg blanched. "What? Are you… sure? Okay…"

"What's wrong?" Sara had noticed his expression.

"I have to get back to the lab." He replied weakly.

"Not before you tell me what Nick said." Her tone encouraged no arguments.

His palms sweated and he didn't trust his voice to not come out all rusty. But Sara's fierce glance wasn't one he could handle.

"Sara, I… I…"

"Greg, what is it?" She demanded impatiently.

"The lab found Catherine's DNA in one of the samples collected from the site."

* * *

Wow, I never really planned on putting so much suspense in the story... it was supposed to be romance... no idea what happened :P

Anyways, thanks for all the reviews. You guys are my sweet inspiration :)


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Sara knew she should be feeling something. When she walked down the Crime Lab lobbies, she knew all those people were staring right at her. When she saw Grissom, for the first since she had known him, looking haggard and defeated, she knew that her entire world has changed. When she saw Sofia unsuccessfully trying to comfort Lily and Nancy, she knew she should be crying like them. When she saw her teammates and her colleagues eyeing her with immeasurable sorrow, she knew she should have that same emotion reflecting on her face.

But she didn't. Sara felt as if she had gone completely disjointed from her body and was watching the whole scene from a distance. Tiny little things around her started taking significance. She spotted a small crack in one of the lab's windows. She could smell the male deodorant emanating from the lab techs. She noticed how the flowers sitting on an office desk were wilting.

In an instant of dark humor, Sara wondered if this was how being a Cyborg from Terminator land felt like.

And then she saw Lindsay…

It was the bereaved expression on the girl. It was the beautiful face marred by grief. It was the brilliant blue eyes and the fair mane, so much a replica of her mother's. It was her very presence that broke the dam inside Sara.

Sara fell to her knees, as if in slow motion. Her eyes were fixed on Lindsay. Her arms dropped to her sides and every little ache that she had clamped inside of her, rushed out. A yell, a cry, a howl, she didn't know which, escaped her lips. Her vision was no longer clear as tears flowed in rivulets down her cheeks. Once she let it out, she was unable to stop herself. Her throat hurt from the agonized sound she forced through it. Her heart thudded with the burden of sobbing.

She vaguely felt someone cradle her head, while someone else hugged her tight. A voice, female, murmured soothing words. But nothing could restrain her now. She bent and hit her hands against the ground. Her knuckles bruised but she almost welcomed the pain. All the time, she wailed until only her voice resounded in her ears. Someone tried to stop her from hurting herself but she pushed violently against the person. There was only the overwhelming urge to torment her physical self, in some impractical hope of lessening the emotional anguish.

"Sara, stop!" Grissom enfolded her from behind. "Don't do this, Sara!"

She squirmed in his grasp and her arms flailed everywhere, uncaring whether she was hurting herself or anyone else.

"Let me go!" She shouted.

Sofia pinned Sara's wrists together but found it really hard to manage the woman. She winced as she felt Sara's boots come in contact with her ankles.

"Please Sara, listen to me." Grissom pleaded. "Don't do this to yourself." He chanted it like a mantra repeatedly, all the time firmly holding on to her.

Slowly, Sara weakened and she stopped struggling. Grissom relaxed his grip on her. Sofia let out a breath, painfully aware of how long she had been holding it. She glanced around and saw what looked like the entire lab crowding around them.

Nick tentatively touched Sara's sagged form.

"Catherine… Catherine…" Sara whimpered before she drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

It's a short chapter, but one of the hardest I've ever written. I've uploaded the raw and uneditted version of the chapter because it was written in the right mood and I didn't want to spoil it . Therefore, all mistakes are mine and mine alone, and I apologize for them.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

Brass clasped his hands in front of him as he watched Sara's sleeping shape. Catching her like this, when she was free from whatever worries that always plagued her conscious self, was a pleasant surprise. Her face had an innocent, almost child-like quality.

He reached out and brushed away a single strand of dark hair from her brow. She evoked in him the feelings he had once had for Ellie. A strong urge to protect his child, and at the same time a crippling helplessness on seeing her sad, was all too familiar.

He still remembered the day when she had entered his office and asked for a personal favor.

>>

_Brass looked up on hearing the knock on his door. He was slightly surprised to find Sara standing there._

"_Sara."_

"_Brass, can I have a word with you?" _

"_Yeah, sure."_ _He put his pen down and motioned for her to come in. He waited for her to comfortably settle herself before asking, "So, is it about the Jones' case?"_

"_No." She shook her head. "It's not about work. It's something more personal."_

_Brass raised his eyebrows questioningly. Sara coming to him for a personal reason was a first._

"_It's something about me and Catherine." Sara shifted uneasily._

"_You have come to me for relationship advice?" He could almost laugh at the irony. "If you have trouble in paradise, I'm the last person to help you. My own success in that department has been negligible."_

"_No, it's nothing like that." She quickly smiled to assure him. "We are doing fine… great."_

"_Oh." He was curious now._

"_It's more like a request for you."_

"_I'm listening."_

"_Catherine and I… we, um, are planning to get married."_

_He was so stunned that it took a moment for him to be able to speak. _

"_Wow." He managed to say. "That is amazing news. I'll say… about time.'_

_Sara smiled, "Thanks. I just hope others will share your enthusiasm."_

"_You kidding?" He chuckled. "They are going to be ecstatic. So…" He paused. "What do you want me to do?"_

"_I don't have a father." Sara looked away. "He died when I was a kid."_

"_I'm sorry to hear that." He said sincerely._

"_Yeah, well, he wasn't a very good man." She gave a wry smile. "But, anyways, I needed someone to give me away. Catherine has Sam and I…" She hesitated._

_Brass understood where she was going with this. He covered her hands with his own. "You have me."_

_Sara blinked. "Are you sure about this? I mean… I don't want to impose…"_

"_Impose?" He let out an incredulous laughter. "Of course, you are not imposing. Besides, I can't think of anyone else who would look as good walking you down the aisles."_

_She grinned. "You bet."_

"_Sara." He met her eyes, strangely dark as his own. "I'm glad you gave me this honor. With Ellie, I've long since given up hope of seeing her as a bride." _

_Sara squeezed his fingers. "I should thank you. I've never known a real father. But if I ever got to choose one, it would have been someone like you."_

_>>_

Brass wiped the corner of his eye. Sara, Nick and Greg – He was fiercely caring of the young bunch in the lab. He was also admittedly closer to them than he had ever been to Ellie. Many would say that it was the lack of Ellie in his life that caused him to cling on to these three as replacements. But he knew better. They were his family in ways his own family had never been.

And now his family was going through such a major tragedy… and he was unable to do anything about it.

"Brass?" Sara's eyelids fluttered open.

"Hey." He weakly smiled. "How are you feeling?"

She propped herself up with an effort. "Are you babysitting me?"

"Of sorts."

Sara gave him a feeble smile. "Thanks Dad."

"Hey Sara." He looked into her eyes. "If there is anything you need, we are all here for you."

She nodded. "But it's not me I'm concerned about. I need to talk to Lindsay."

* * *

Grissom inwardly groaned when he saw Sam Braun waiting by his office. The man looked as smug as ever, if only slightly angry. 

"Mr. Grissom." Sam crossed his bulky arms against each other. "What are you and your men doing to find the culprit?"

"Sam, you know as well as I do that none of the CSIs will rest until we find the person responsible." Grissom curtly said.

"No, you see I'm not sure I know that." Sam twisted his lips.

"Then I'm afraid I cannot offer you any other reassurance. Now if you'll excuse me."

"Listen young man, whoever did this to my daughter will pay. I'm not entirely confident in your department's ability and I don't give a damn either ways. But I want you to promise me that none of your boys are going to bother my people while they are doing a little investigating of their own."

Grissom didn't know whether he should be horrified or plain furious at the man's lack of scruples. "If your people are caught doing anything illegal, then they'll be charged regardless of who or what they were doing it for. The casualty count has risen to eight, Sam. You seek justice for your daughter. And I need to answer to eight families. Not to mention, one of them being exceptionally close to me. So don't come here and tell me that my department is doing nothing."

An expression, which Grissom found quite undecipherable, crossed Sam's face before he straightened his clothes and walked away without another word. Grissom was saved from pondering over Sam's odd behavior by his pager beeping .

He went directly to the lab where Nick was waiting for him. He wasn't surprised to find one of dayshift's CSIs there with his guy. What concerned him was that both of them had the look of someone who was anticipating a serious disaster.

"You paged 9-1-1, Nick." He briefly met Janet Simmons' eyes.

"We traced the tire shreds we got along with the explosives." Nick explained. Grissom didn't miss the tinge of unease in his voice.

"And?"

"The rubber had microscopic markings on them. I tracked it back to a car rental company on the West Coast. They order spare tires in bulk and use them for their cars. They mark their tires with serial numbers and record them down."

"Well, that's good." Grissom's morose face perceptibly brightened. "Did you call the company?"

"Yes. According to their records, they rented it to a Courtney Andrews three days ago. I had Greg run the DNA of the flesh we found in the car. He got a match in CODIS."

"Courtney Andrews' DNA is on file?"

Nick nodded. "She was arrested for fraud and shoplifting in LA ten years ago."

"But now she's dead. Who wanted her dead?"

"There's something else, though." Janet interjected, ignoring the glare Nick threw her way. "Courtney rented the car with her debit card. We tracked all purchases made with that account. She had bought 75g of nitroglycerine and some lead styphnate and lead azide."

"Common materials used in making bombs." Grissom's brow furrowed.

"The account's a joint account. She holds one half of the ownership."

"And the other half?"

She glanced uncertainly at her computer and back at Grissom. "The other half is in the name of Sara Sidle."

"You must have made some mistake. Run it again!" Grissom bellowed.

Nick and Janet shared a somber look. "There's no mistake, Gris. We ran it a couple of times. I even called the bank and the manager confirmed that the account was jointly started by Sara along with Courtney Andrews."

"Though, this woman, Courtney has been arrested on charges of fraud. Maybe she somehow forged Sara's identity." Janet tried to sound optimistic.

"How could she have done that?" Grissom murmured wearily. "And if she really did forge Sara's identity, why would she open a joint account in her name? It would easily trace back to her."

Nick sighed. "I guess the only thing we can do right now is ask Sara about this woman."

At that instant, the computer beeped in announcement. Nick and Janet bent over the screen to read.

"What's wrong?" Grissom asked. Judging by the distinct pallor on their faces, he knew that whatever they had read wasn't good news.

Nick was rendered so speechless that Janet had to take over for him. "We just received records of all property registered in Courtney Andrews' name. The principle owner is Sara."

"So, maybe they are good friends." Grissom reasoned, though he could see how that fact would complicate the case.

"Not exactly." Janet swallowed. "According to the state of California, Courtney and Sara have been in a domestic partnership for a year."

"What?" Grissom doubled with the impact of the shock. Nick rubbed his forehead; distress was written all over him.

Janet looked from one man to the other and felt acutely sorry for them. This was the last thing they needed after their tragic loss. But evidence was impersonal and right then it was pointing to a raw fact, heedless of the catastrophe it would cause.

"I think Sara Sidle has just become a suspect… with a very strong motive." Janet whispered, giving voice to the realization that both Grissom and Nick had come to.

* * *

Gosh, don't I just love torturing Sara? She's a fun person to toy with... (and that sounded better in my head) 

There is one thing though. I'm not sure whether California has legislated civil unions, marriage or domestic partnership for same-sex couples. Different sites on the internet give different information, with different terms. So, I just settled for domestic partnership. But if any Californian or law expert is reading this, maybe he/she could shed some light on it? Thanks for the reviews:)


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen **

Sara felt slightly queasy as she made her way towards Catherine's office. She had searched for Lindsay in the visitor's lounge and the cafeteria but to no avail. This was the only other place she could think of.

She leant against the wall to steady herself. Sara knew the corridor like the back of her hand, from every single potted plant to the paint on the walls. Over the years, she had made countless trips down this lane to eventually end up at Catherine's door. Sometimes it was for work and sometimes to spend some time with her lover.

And never had Sara imagined feeling this dread she was feeling right then. Catherine's death would be on the minds of everyone for months to come. But she knew that with the passage of time, the blonde CSI would become another distant memory. Someone else would be promoted to her position and would possibly occupy her office. But for Sara, nothing in the Crime Lab would ever be the same again.

She pressed a hand against her stomach to stop the cold feeling inside. Sara wondered if she would ever be able to get over what happened. She still held an irrational hope that this was one of her past nightmares from which she would wake up, cuddled in Catherine's arms.

"Ms. Sidle?"

Sara turned and saw one of the lab techs calling her.

"Yeah?"

"There's someone here asking for you. He's by the front desk."

She frowned. She couldn't think of anyone who would give her a personal visit at her workplace.

Debating between carrying on with her search for Lindsay and addressing whoever was waiting for her, Sara settled for the latter. In all honesty, she didn't think she was prepared to talk to the young Willows yet.

When Sara approached the entrance lobby, she found a man, well into his forties, waiting. Since there wasn't any other non-worker in the vicinity, she had to assume that he was the guy who had called for her. He had on tweeds and a pair of khaki slacks. His hair was raven black and a fancy stubble covered his lower jaw. There was something about his face that seemed really familiar to her but she couldn't quite place it. It was only when he turned and his eyes met hers that she recognized him.

"Sean." She thought she had only whispered but the smile on his face indicated he had heard her.

"Hey sis."

"What are you doing here?" She gave him a dazed look.

"I was in the neighborhood." He joked. When he saw that she hadn't smiled, he shrugged. "I looked you up. It brought me here."

Sara became aware of people staring at her. Much as she found herself incapable of coherent thoughts at that instant, she knew that she couldn't carry on a private conversation within everyone's full earshot

"Sean, this is really not a good time." She mumbled.

"I know." He gently moved towards her. "That's why I'm here. I figured you might need some family."

Sara stopped herself from retorting that her family was the last thing she needed at the moment.

"What _are_ you doing here?" She repeated her question.

"Let's go somewhere and have some coffee, shall we? There's a lot to catch up."

Sara hesitated. Here was a brother who had re-emerged in her life after a hiatus of twenty years. And he comes right at the moment when she is undergoing a major emotional turmoil. She didn't know what to think. She wondered if this deliberately unfunny comedy would end anytime soon.

"Sara?" His brows knit in worry. "Are you ok? If you want… I could contact you later…"

_A little conversation with Sean wouldn't hurt. I doubt there's anything left to go wrong_ – Shaking her head, she told him, "You go ahead. I'll sign off for a short break and then we can talk."

* * *

"Where are we?" Sara inquired. The limo they sat in had swerved onto a cobblestone driveway with palm trees lining both its sides. From amidst their canopy, Sara could make out the outline of what looked like a villa. 

"This is my residence." Sean pulled out a tiny microphone embedded into the roof of the limo. "Aprire il portello" He murmured and immediately, Sara saw the massive gates swing inwards to allow them to pass.

Liveried servants awaited their arrival. A tanned young man held out a hand for Sara, which she took to ease out of the vehicle. She saw gardens extending from both sides of the main path before disappearing round the corner. She could hear the soft gushing sounds from three fountains with matching mermaids and dancing dolphins.

"I'll give you an extensive tour later." Sean remarked on seeing her interest in the surroundings. "My family's waiting inside."

Sara frowned. Sean hadn't mentioned a family. She had thought she was going to have a conversation with her brother in private. Suddenly, she wasn't all too sure she should be there.

Oblivious to her discomfort, Sean confidently strode through an oak-paneled doorway. Sara had no other choice but to follow him. She dug her hands deep into the back pockets of her jeans.

She had been into houses like this several times during investigations. The rich usually had reasons to kill and be killed. But there was something different about being a guest to such a place. If she thought the outside was mystifying, she was positively awestruck when she emerged into the interiors. The whole place was bathed in a kind of surreal amber hue. High arched windows, with yellow stained glass, let in an interesting mosaic of light. Bronze statues stood tastefully on carved pillars. Pottery painted in Native Indian motifs gleamed with radiance. Aesthetic pieces of art adorned the walls. She wobbled slightly as her feet sank into the very thick, Oriental carpet. The helical staircase was made of burgundy hardwood on which rested a cream-colored rug.

Standing on the staircase and leaning against the polished banister was a young girl around Lindsay's age. The sight of her stopped Sara in mid-stride.

The girl's face had eerily reminded her of her mother.

" Lena, come and say hello to your Aunt Sara." Sean wrapped his right hand around the girl. "Sara, this is my daughter, Lena."

"Hi Lena." Sara hoped she sounded warm enough. The grandeur of the place and the girl's resemblance to Laura Sidle were all too dumbfounding.

"You must be Sara." Sara saw an older woman step down. Her olive complexion, strong cheekbones and jet black hair bore the mark of a Mediterranean heritage. "I'm Carmel, Lena's mother."

Sara managed a smile for their benefit. "This is a beautiful place."

Carmel beamed proudly. "I'm an interior decorator and Sean here has an excellent taste in art. That is how we met, actually."

Sean tsked. "Now, now, Carmel, we don't need to bore Sara with the mundane details of our romance. Ask Dorothy to lay out tea for us on the terrace, will you?"

Carmel nodded, still smiling and disappeared up the stairs. In that short exchange, Sara knew everything about the couple. Carmel was the beautiful trophy wife and Sean was the dominating voice in the relationship.

The anxious feeling she had ever since she had slid into the limo, returned with full force. Something was definitely not right about the place.

Just then the sound of her pager shook her away from her doubts. She took it out and read the display. It was Grissom asking for her to return back to the lab. Even though, she could have been excused for a few more hours, she didn't mind attending to it. Sara wanted to get out of this museum-like house as soon as possible.

"Problem?"

"Err…" She hesitated. "Not really. I just got called in for an emergency."

Sean's face had darkened. "Surely, they can spare you. Has the LVPD lost every slice of sensitivity?"

"I'm sure it's very important. Grissom would never have called for me otherwise." Sara turned towards Lena and found it odd that the girl hadn't moved a single facial muscle since she had seen her. "It was nice meeting you Lena."

"Don't worry Lena, Aunt Sara will be coming back… very soon. And then we'll all have a little family chat…" A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Without any interruption."

Like magic, one of Sean's uniformed servants appeared. He spoke in rapid Italian to the man before looking at Sara.

"Victor here will assist you back to your headquarters."

"Give me your number in case I need to contact you." Sara said.

He tilted his head. "That won't be necessary. I'll call you."

She was both offended and a little worried by the nonchalant way he tried to assert his authority over everything. But she didn't have the energy to take him up on that. She simply nodded and asked him to tell her goodbye to Carmel.

* * *

Sean dropped some of the ash from his cigar onto the marbled floor. From the height of his terrace, he could watch the limo careen off into the distance. Faint strains of piano music floated from inside. 

The meeting with his sister hadn't gone as he expected. However, he was far from hurried. There would be other opportunities. She was going to need his support very soon. He had made sure of that.

He took out his cellphone and dialed a number he knew by heart.

"Hello?" A thick voice answered on the other end.

"How's she?" Sean questioned, without preamble.

"She's still asleep, just like you wanted."

"Good. Have you arranged the room the way I asked you to?"

"Yes boss. The room has all five star luxuries." Sean caught a trace of sourness in the voice.

"Remember, she has to be absolutely comfortable." He casually blew a ringlet of smoke. "Next time she awakens, don't sedate her. Give her something to eat. Be careful to not show your face and make sure that she's _always_ watched. The woman may seem fragile but she's extremely experienced. If she struggles a lot, give her small doses of Diazepam. Use force if necessary, but don't hurt her. You understand me?"

"Yes boss." The man muttered.

Sean inhaled the tanginess of the tobacco and smiled. Catherine Willows' supposed death was just going to be the beginning of his sister's problems.

* * *

Do I hear a "Yay" from the crowd? And on this (relatively) positive note, I'm leaving for my weekend trip. Here's wishing all my fellow Canadians, a Happy Canada Day and to those of you south of the border, a Happy Fourth of July. And to the rest, a Happy Weekend :D 

Oh, but please keep reviewing in the meantime... :)

P.S. Sorry for those who get bored with my elaborate descriptions, sometimes. I get **_really_** carried away when I have to describe architecture or art.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

Sara barely noticed the changing scenery as the limo drove back towards the city. Her eyes had been glued to the mini bar and its impressive amount of liquor. She wasn't an alcoholic but once or twice, she did need its mind-numbing solace. This was a good time as any.

But she was expected back at work and she knew better than to have herself reeking of scotch.

If she was honest with herself, Sara didn't exactly know how to feel. Her earlier outburst had helped release all that pent up pain. But it didn't really lessen it. Instead, the sorrow had drained off all life energy from her and left her with this unexplainable void inside. And how can one let out something that's not even there? How can one express emptiness?

Part of the reason for her ability to still keep herself together was the fact that she found the whole situation unbelievable. She had gotten so used to the blonde's presence, first as colleague, then as a friend and then as a lover, that her mind just couldn't register the truth that she wasn't going to see her again. She half expected Catherine to reappear from nowhere with a 'Tada!'. She had already started to look for signs that what she was going through wasn't reality but a dream. Her biggest argument was Sean Sidle and his reappearance in her life.

Two equally improbable and questionable events, occurring at the same time, are the stuff that dreams are made out of, right? RIGHT?

But deep down, Sara knew all this was true. The explosion site she had only twelve hours ago processed was true. The burnt items soaked in blood were true. The victims, now reduced to nothing but masses of dismembered flesh and ash, were all true. The DNA comparison, placing Catherine at the scene, was also true.

Sara hadn't been aware that the postmodern architecture of the LV Crime Lab now stood in front, until she felt the limo go stationary.

"Ma'am?" She heard Victor's deeply accented voice as he opened the door for her.

"Thank you." She murmured without looking at him. The blazing heat of the morning, after the coolness of the limo, felt harsh. Despite that, Sara looked up at the sky. The clouds of the previous day had faded to give way to the sun. She didn't believe in omens, good or otherwise. But her parents, with their deeply ingrained hippie influence, used to have all kinds of tarot card readers, fortune tellers and shamans visit them. For the first time in her life, Sara wished that she would have learnt some of what they had said. She had the feeling that the weather was telling her something… something she couldn't interpret.

* * *

When Catherine opened her eyes, she frowned at the unfamiliarity of the ceiling staring down at her. She would have risen up in one quick, lithe movement, if she hadn't found her wrists and ankles restrained. 

"What the!" Her head spun from side to side, not quite comprehending where she was or why she was tied to the bed.

"Relax, Ms. Willows." A smooth, female voice spoke.

Catherine turned to face the speaker. The room was lit by a single floor lamp that seemed to provide more shadows than light. In one of those obscurities, she could make out the faint silhouette of a person.

"Who are you?" Her voice came out rusty.

"My name or identity is of no importance." She saw the figure move a little. "How are you feeling? Do you have any headaches? Lightheadedness? Pain?"

"Who are you? Why am I here?" Catherine demanded to know.

"As I said earlier, my identity is not important. As for the second one, it will be answered in due time."

"Just answer my fucking question, bitch!"

There was silence. Catherine briefly wondered if the woman had left. Panic rose in her throat. She didn't want to be left alone, all tied up and helpless.

"Ms. Willows, I understand your anger, I truly do." The woman actually sounded sincere. "But you must take my word that we mean you no harm."

"Oh, it's real easy to do that when I'm tied up in a strange place." Catherine retorted.

"You have been confined for your own safety. Our only wish is to protect you."

"From what?"

Another silence. Catherine could now see a bit more clearly as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The person she was talking to was slightly built. She could make out long, thick hair. The heavy quietness of the room was punctuated by the tapping of boots on the floor.

"Someone has been trying to kill you. If we hadn't brought you here, they would have succeeded." The woman answered.

"Kill me?" Catherine scoffed. "That's ridiculous."

"I assure you, it's not."

Suddenly, Catherine gasped. "Lindsay! Where's my daughter? Where's Lindsay?"

"She's safe and unharmed."

"I want to see her!"

Catherine saw the person tilt her head. "That wouldn't be advisable, neither for you nor for your daughter. Her safety lies in staying away from you."

"I want to see her!"

"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation." And then without warning, the mysterious figure stepped into the light. Catherine was rendered speechless for a while. She didn't quite know whom she had expected, but she surely didn't expect a young girl who appeared barely out of her teens. Bright grey eyes bore right through her.

"Ms. Willows, your life had been saved with an enormous amount of difficulty. But if your killer learns that you are alive, he or she would stop at nothing to try again. You will be endangering yourself and of those around you."

"Who wants to kill me?" Catherine found her throat dry.

The woman… girl moved back. She gave a small shrug but didn't answer.

"So, everyone thinks I'm dead?"

"Yes."

"But…"

The girl waved her hand to cut her off. "This room is fully equipped to meet your needs. There is a fridge, stocked with bottled water, milk and juice. There are TV, DVD players and some movie collections for you to entertain yourself with. We even have some books. There is a phone and you need to dial #1 if you want to speak with me. The phone is useless otherwise. The bathroom is clean and functional. You'll be provided with breakfast, lunch and dinner. You can obviously make requests, if you need something. Just call me. You won't be restrained and are free to use this room as you please. Any questions?"

"I'm going to be a well-fed, well-kept, hostage?" Catherine laughed bitterly.

"You are not a hostage but a guest with maximum protection." The girl replied impassively.

"I feel honored."

She raised an eyebrow over Catherine's sarcasm but didn't comment. "I'm going to sedate you now. The next time you wake up, you will find your hands free and food waiting for you. Is there anything in particular that you wish to have?"

Catherine shook her head. "No." Before she knew what was happening, the girl had expertly injected her. Immediately, she felt the effects of whatever she had been given. She struggled to keep her eyes open. She needed information and despite the muddling in her brain, she knew it was important to get them. But the sedative had started to work its way into her brain cells and the last thing she saw before drifting off to sleep was a radiant smile.

* * *

Greg had contacts all over the lab. From the very janitor who mopped the floors clean to the secretaries who he tirelessly flirted with to the Director himself, he knew the ins and outs of people's lives through common gossip. No news was "new" to him. So, it didn't take him too long to be informed that Sara was going to be questioned, not as a CSI but as a suspect. 

His first reaction was disbelief. It was quickly followed by anger. Sara was one of his dearest friends and he knew how much she was hurting at that particular moment. Greg, who had rarely experienced bad temper, stormed into Grissom's office. He was surprised to find Warrick, Nick and Sofia already there.

"Greg?" Sofia turned towards him. "What are you doing here?"

"I suppose I'm the only who was left in the dark." Greg hissed. "When were you guys going to tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell, Greg." Grissom rubbed his eyes wearily. "Sara is going to undergo some standard interrogation."

"And the reason why these three are standing here is just that."

"Greg…" Warrick began but didn't know how to continue. When Grissom had told him about the evidence implicating Sara, he had been too shocked to even think coherently.

"Do you guys really need to question Sara? Do you doubt her innocence?" Greg spat.

"It's not about believing in her innocence, Greg." Nick had his eyes downcast, as if afraid to look into anything. "It's about the evidence and what it says."

"The evidence could be wrong!" Immediately, Greg realized what he had just said. Doubting the reliability of the evidence in front of his CSI colleagues was akin to committing a serious blasphemy.

"Look." He continued, more calmly. "I just don't think she should be questioned at a time like this. Did you guys forget how devastated she was earlier? She fainted, for Chrissake!"

"Greg is right." Warrick spoke. "I don't think it is a good idea to ask her these questions now, Gris. She's hanging on a thin thread of sanity out here. She lost Cath..." His voice collapsed and he had to swallow a couple of times to resume. "Sara's not up to this."

"Don't you think I know that?" Grissom returned defensively.

"It's not our call anymore." Nick voiced in defeat. "Harper's officially in charge of the case. We all question the victim's immediate relatives, disregarding the impact on them. If we show preferential treatment to Sara, it won't look good on us."

This time Greg truly lost his temper. "Won't look good on us? What the hell kind of lame reason is that, Nick? She's our friend, _your_ friend! We are talking about Sara here, not just _anyone_! I don't care if we give her preferential treatment."

"You think I don't feel for Sara?" Nick shouted.

"Obviously, not enough."

Nick clenched his jaw. "But we don't have a choice!"

"Sure, we have a choice."

Everyone froze at Sofia's unexpected words. Grissom looked up to stare at her. "What do you mean?"

But before Sofia got a chance to reply, Arnold Harper presented himself at the door.

"All of you are together, good." His smile was falsely benevolent. "Sara Sidle is here. It would be nice if you would come and witness the interrogation. She might need some… moral support."

* * *

Thank You for all the reviews! My weekend was good, except for some rough weather.

I feel elated to get to write about Catherine again! It was so depressing without her... I'm sure all of you will agree.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

"What is going on?" Sara narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Not only had she been prevented from going towards the building area where the labs and workstations were housed, she had been ushered by a guard towards the interrogation room. And now she saw Grissom and Brass standing near it, along with the rest of the guys. Grissom was deliberately avoiding her gaze but he was the one she had directed her question to.

"We would like you to come in here." Harper gestured towards the stark interrogation room.

"Why?"

"Ms. Sidle, it's just some regular questions. Won't you help us?"

Grissom felt bile rise up in his mouth at the cruel smile on the man's face.

"Sara, please do as he says." Brass patted her gently.

Sara could sense that whatever was coming wasn't good. But she could also sense no support coming from any direction. She stiffened and walked into the room.

With the door closed, the questioning room had a gloomy claustrophobic air. Sara shifted uncomfortably. She had been in this room countless times but never had she sat on this side of the metal table. Now, sitting opposite Harper and staring down at folders containing unknown facts, she became nervous. The fact that Nick was also there, offered her little comfort.

"Would you like a drink, Ms. Sidle?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She turned towards Nick. "Can we just get to the point?"

"Alright." Harper cleared his throat. He opened one of the folders and extended a large snapshot in front of her. Even as Sara started to recognize the woman in the picture, he spoke, "Do you know a Courtney Andrews?"

"What has she got to do with anything?" Sara asked, after recovering from her surprise.

"Do you know her, Sara?" Nick queried gently.

"Yes." She leant back, eyeing both men in front of her.

"In what capacity?"

"She's a good friend."

"Oh." She could almost hear Harper give a snort before he continued. "Do you usually get into a domestic partnership with your _good friends_, Ms. Sidle?"

Her fingernails dug into her skin. "We dissolved the union a while back."

"A while back? Could you be more specific?"

"A month, maybe."

"Well." Harper pretended to look confused. "The registry from California speaks otherwise. According to it, you are still legally in that partnership with Ms. Andrews."

"That's bullshit! I signed the papers for the legal separation."

"I see." He cocked his head to the side. "Did Catherine Willows know about this partnership?"

"Of course!" Sara scowled.

"She did?" He clearly looked dubious. "It states here that you and Ms. Andrews were legally united in the March of last year. Would it be safe to say that you and Ms. Willows were in a relationship that time?"

Sara didn't answer but she caught his drift.

A hard smile crossed his face. "It seems interestingly open-minded of her to be acceptable of this… arrangement."

"That's none of your business. It's personal." She seethed.

"I'm sure it is. But right now, your personal life is imperative to our investigation."

"What the hell is going on?" Sara stared at the two-way mirror, beyond which, she knew, stood her friends and colleagues.

"We recovered Courtney Andrews' license plates from the parking lot at The Boulevard." Harper answered, lacing his fingers together. "The same parking lot that was bombed. The same parking lot where, we believe, Catherine Willows was killed."

Sara shot him a bewildered look.

"We even collected DNA samples from the driver, or what was left of her. It came back a match to Courtney Andrews."

"What are you saying?" She whispered.

He didn't reply immediately, all the time looking intently into her anxious eyes. Finally, he gave a small sigh. "What I'm saying is that Courtney Andrews was also one of the fatalities in the explosion."

Sara just gaped wide-eyed at the man, not trusting herself to be capable of anything else.

Nick wanted to reach out and touch Sara but he knew he couldn't. Instead he said, "Sara, the bomb fragments that we found were attached to Courtney Andrews' car. So…"

"So, you see how intimately connected your private life is to this case." Harper rudely interrupted. "Your fiancée and your legal partner were killed in the explosion caused by the bomb in your partner's car."

"No." Was all Sara could force out of her dried lips.

"Unfortunately, yes." He made a show of appearing disheartened. "Now you must understand how important it is for you to cooperate. You have been a CSI. You know the drill…"

"I want a lawyer."

Both Harper and Nick were taken aback by Sara's insistence. Nick briefly glanced at the mirrored wall before turning towards her.

"Sara, just tell us…" He began but he forgot the rest when she gave him a cold look.

"Ms. Sidle, you know we can get a warrant." Harper gave her a condescending look.

"Then get one." She met his eyes in challenge. "Until then, I'm not saying another word without an attorney and my representative present. Now if you excuse me."

"This is not an interrogation… yet. Don't force us into one."

"Do what you have to." Without another look at him, she opened the door. She strode towards where Grissom and the others were waiting.

"How could you let him do this?" Sara thinned her lips, hurt flaring up within her.

Before he could say anything, she had turned to the others. "How could _any_ of you let him do this?"

She shook her head in disbelief before marching away from their sight, leaving all of them stunned into silence

Harper wiped his face with his handkerchief. "Well, this sure as hell makes her look guilty. I'll get a warrant."

"No!" Everyone's simultaneous rejection halted him.

"No warrant." Grissom mumbled, his gaze still lingering at where Sara had recently stood. "I'll speak to her."

"Like hell you will." Harper snorted.

"Arnold, I'd like to talk to you." Sofia leant towards him with a meaningful look. "Alone."

He shrugged and followed her.

Once they were in a corner, comfortably away from everyone's hearing, Sofia stopped. She made sure she appeared serious enough.

"Don't do this, Arnold. Over-zealousness can get you into a lot of trouble."

"Yeah, like you would know."

"I would. I've been there."

He silently measured her words before sighing, "So, what are you telling me?"

"If you charge or even so much as point a finger on someone from inside, you are risking a major backlash. In case you are wrong, you know that's your career down the drain." Sofia crossed her arms. "You want to be sure and you want to be supported. Later on, no one can accuse you of being biased."

"Kinda like what happened between you and Ecklie." He sneered.

"Not exactly." She shrugged. "But if it helps you to have that as an example."

"Look, we both know that Grissom's a pain in the ass. His I-don't-ever-need-to-explain-anything-to-you attitude is not liked around here. Nailing him and his department will be a relief to many."

"Yes, but you want to make sure that you are not nailing any part of yourself along with him." Sofia angled her head. "Let Sara Sidle loose but on a leash. That way you can jerk her back whenever you want. But apply too much force this early in the game and you know you'll have to answer to a lot many legalities."

"I know." He looked thoughtful. "But what if she slips away?"

"You mean if she skips town? Even if she manages to do that, it's her entire life ruined."

"So, you are saying I should gather more evidence?"

"Appear sympathetic, Harp, it's going to look good in the long run."

He smiled at her conspiratorially. "I always knew the day shifters were smart."

"Of course." Sofia winked at him.

She watched him amble confidently towards Grissom and his crew and gave a sigh of relief. Sofia knew the exact place where the weak points for guys like Harper lay. His mind ran in a linear track and its goal was status. He would do anything to get himself elevated to higher positions in the department. While such ambition was dangerous, it was also easy to manipulate. He would never risk doing anything that could jeopardize his upward rise.

"What did you tell him?" Greg approached her after Harper had left.

"I just pushed some of his buttons." She smiled.

"Must have been some buttons."

"Enough to buy us some time for Sara."

* * *

It was the first time since she had returned to Vegas that Sara had gone home. Home? Sara wondered if that was the word that she could use anymore. Nothing had changed. And yet everything had changed. She no longer saw the carefully mowed grass but instead noticed the weeds sticking out amongst them. She no longer admired the freshly painted garage doors but instead turned her eyes away from its blinding brightness. She no longer looked at the perfectly laid shingles on the roof but instead saw the cracks, which they had tried to repair. Distortion and ruin stood out despite the lovingly kept house.

Kind of like her own life.

She was angry, very, very angry. She was angry at her colleagues and her team for having betrayed her to a stranger. She was angry at fate for having snatched away the one most amazing person from her life. She was angry at her brother for trying to claim a relationship after two decades of disregard. She was angry at her parents for choosing the paths they had chosen, leaving her bereft of a wondrous childhood. She was angry at Courtney for taking advantage of their friendship. She was even angry at Grissom, who of all people should have taken her side.

But most of all, she was angry at herself. Deep down, she blamed herself for _everything_.

She didn't know how long she stood staring at what was once her home, now nothing more than a cold building. When the front door opened, she just returned Lily and Nancy's surprised expression with a blank look.

"Sara, we were trying to call you but couldn't reach your cell." Nancy walked towards her friend.

"All of you are going somewhere?" Sara noted the bags in their hands.

"Sam thought it was best that Lindsay and I shift into his house for a few days." Lily explained. "He even asked if you would like that."

Sara glanced at Lindsay emerge from inside. "No, I'll be fine here."

"Are you sure, dear?"

"Yeah." Sara nodded. "Can I talk to Lindsay for a minute?"

"Yeah, go along. We'll load the bags in the meantime." Nancy said.

Lindsay had her head hung low. Her boots played with the dirt underneath.

"Hey." Sara managed a smile. "I'm sorry, we couldn't talk earlier."

"It's ok." Lindsay sounded stable but she could make out the forced voice.

"Do you want to go to Sam's?"

The girl shrugged. "I don't care."

"Yeah, it's probably for the best." Sara whispered, more for her own benefit. "I'll come and see you later, okay?"

"Sure."

"Lindz?"

Lindsay finally looked up and Sara almost forgot to breathe when she saw the tear-filled eyes. Impulsively, she hugged the girl tight.

"I'm so sorry, honey." Sara spoke in between stifled sobs. "I'm so very sorry."

Lindsay hugged back. "Sara, would you do something for me?"

"Anything." She ran a hand along the girl's back

"Catch the person who did this to Mommy." Lindsay whimpered. "Please?"

"I will, Lindz. I promise you, I will." Sara dug her face into Lindsay's hair and let her cries flow freely. "I promise."

When Lindsay finally extricated herself from Sara, she gave a little sad smile. She gently wiped the brunette's face.

"You don't look good crying."

"I wasn't blessed with your looks, Miss Nevada." Sara let out a small chuckle.

"I have to go now. But you would come to visit?"

"Of course." Sara tried to look convincing. She didn't want Lindsay to go. The girl was the only person left in her large, empty life. She was the last link to Catherine. She was probably the sole figure to look forward to. All other portions of Sara's life had been sucked into a cavernous black hole.

Sara watched Lindsay get into the backseat of Nancy's Explorer.

"Sara?"

She turned towards Lily. She had always marveled at how the woman never appeared close to the seventy she was approaching. But the strain of the past few days had placed twenty more years on her face.

"Since we won't be able to conduct a proper funeral…" Lily breathed. "We thought we should grace Catherine with a service at least."

Sara nodded. "As you think best."

"We are, umm, arranging a special service the day after. I've informed most of our family members and some friends."

"Anything I can do to help?"

Lily smiled shakily. "You probably have a lot on your hands already. Sam has his people doing the necessary."

"Okay."

"Are you sure you'd be alright alone?" The older woman cast a worried glance over her.

Sara looked away. "I will have to learn."

* * *


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

>------>

"_Cath?_ _Cath! Wake up!"_

"_Hmpphh…"_

"_It's time for your medicine." _

"_Oh no."_ _Catherine groaned and turned to bury her face in her pillow._

"_Cath, you need to have them." She heard Sara's gentle scolding. "That's what the doctor prescribed. A pill every four hours."_

"_Those pills are bitter." Catherine grumbled._

"_All pills are."_

"_And they leave their bitter taste for too long."_

"_Cath, I've brought you some warm milk. It'll remove the taste." Sara brushed a strand of hair away from Catherine's eyes. _

"_I hate milk." The blonde muttered._

"_No, you don't. Now get up."_

"_I hate you."_

"_Ah." Sara grinned. "That, I know you don't."_

_Catherine couldn't help smiling as she felt warm lips kiss the top of her head. _

"_You know what I do to naughty people who don't listen to me?" Sara slowly curved her fingers around Catherine's slender waist and began wiggling it._

"_No, you won't!" Catherine closed her eyes even tighter, anticipating the said torture._

"_You know I will, Catherine." Sara whispered into her ear. Despite the dizziness from the fever, she shivered at the husky tone of her lover's voice. _

"_Okay, okay, fine!" She sighed. "I'm getting up. You are just too Goddamn stubborn, you know that, Sidle?"_

_She turned to face upwards and proceeded to open her eyes. _

_>------>_

Catherine blinked several times. There was no dreaded medicine. There was no glass of milk. There was no Sara. She wasn't even looking at her own bedroom. She raised her hand to rub her eyes and felt a sharp sting of pain.

"What is this?" She frowned as she saw her left hand swathed in thick bandages. She tenderly prodded the bulky cloth and felt a numb ache. The ache increased exponentially when she tried to move her hand.

As the fogs of her dream receded, recent memories came back to her. She looked around, half expecting her mysterious, young captor to be still there. She was alone.

When Catherine rose up from bed, she felt a rush of wooziness. She gripped the bed sheets for support and willed her body to straighten up. The nausea worsened when she tried to stand up on her feet. They appeared to have no strength to carry her entire body weight. But she tried nevertheless. The prospect of returning back to sleep didn't hold any appeal for her. Plus, she felt the need to use the restroom really bad.

She noticed the room wasn't as dim as before. In addition to the floor lamps, she saw sunlight filter in through high vents. A dull idea formed in the back of her brain but she pushed it away to give precedence to more urgent matters. Catherine looked around and saw a door in one corner. With some difficulty, she managed to walk towards it. Once she reached there, she almost collapsed with the exertion. When she pushed against it, she was grateful to find that it was indeed the washroom.

While she relieved herself, she took some time to observe the moss green tiles and the paler green ceramic for the sinks. There was a tiny shower room and a modest bath tub. Everything looked squeaky clean. She caught the faint whiff of disinfectant mixed with the stronger floral aroma of air freshener.

When she returned back to the room, Catherine felt overwhelmed. She knew that the first thing that she should be planning is her escape. For that, she needed to get acquainted with her surroundings first. But before she could do that, her stomach rumbled. She didn't know for how long she had been in this place but it must have been quite a while.

The girl had said something about food and sure enough Catherine spotted a takeout box lying on the coffee table. She vaguely pondered whether she should be eating meals from some stranger. For all she knew, they could have poisoned it. But common sense told her that whoever was keeping her there would want her to remain alive. Killing her will spoil their plans. That was all the justification her hungry self needed, to tear open the box and dig into its contents.

After ravaging half the meat balls and steamed rice, she felt she could function again. With the box in her hands, she began to explore her room. A semi-large entertainment unit dominated one half of the wall, opposite the bed. At right angles to it were placed squat shelves containing books. A writing desk sat beside it. A pen holder with some pencils and several writing pads were all she saw on top of the desk. At the foot of the bed was a mini fridge. As promised, it was fully stocked with bottled water, milk and a twelve pack. The room wasn't large and she could walk from one end to the other in a few steps. But it seemed to have been equipped well enough to occupy her for several good days.

Which brought in her a panic. Her captors were obviously planning to keep her there for some time. So far, she had gotten some evasive reason that it was for her own protection. But she knew better than to take everything at face value.

She ran a hand through her hair and felt its damp tendrils. She needed a shower but as far as she could see, there weren't any change of clothes. She could even smell her stale breath and her skin was sticky with sweat.

Catherine smirked at the dry humor. Here she was in a potentially dangerous situation and all she could think of was her personal hygiene. She then realized that it was her mind's way to keep her from being enveloped by the chilled fear rising within the pits of her gut.

She lowered herself on the floor and tried to analyze the situation. The first thing, she told herself, was to see what she remembered. Images of her family, images of Sara, and images of her crime lab bombarded her mind and it took all of her control to not stray away with the memories. She tried not to think of the wedding she was supposed to have and obviously didn't have. She needed to keep her mind focused away from concern for her daughter. But it wasn't easy…

Along with memories, came questions, a lot many questions, for which she had no answer.

_Where is Sara? Is she searching for me? Surely, Sara will search for me. And what about Grissom? He'll turn the lab upside down until I'm found. So will the others, right? And Lindsay? How must she be feeling? My baby must be so scared for me._

_I'm so scared for me. _

Catherine told herself to remain calm.

_The CSIs won't stop at anything. Brass is an expert cop, he will know what to do, where to look, right? And Sam… my father… he does love me… in his own way. He'll go through any avenue, good or bad, to find me. And my mother? And Nancy?_ _They must be so worried. I wonder if these kidnappers have made a demand. But they said they were protecting me… what did they mean? Who do they work for? What do they want?_

_They won't give up. My family and friends won't give up. Even if everyone does, Sara won't give up. She loves me. She knows I love her. And she knows how much I love my family. She'll find me… she won't stop… not until I'm safe and found… right? Won't she?_

Catherine shuddered as her weakness cracked through.

_Oh God, I miss her! I miss them! Where am I? Why are they doing this? I want to go back to them! I want to be near them!

* * *

_

Sara jerked upright and looked around. For a moment, she thought she heard Catherine's voice. Even though her rationality screamed otherwise, her eyes roved around for any sight of the blonde. But all she saw was the emptiness of the house glaring back at her.

She had been sitting in the backyard, running her fingers absently over a mound of dirt. Catherine had planned to grow a lavender bush there. In this one area, both were delightfully similar. They shared their passion for gardening. But now, all that was left was a pile of scattered and unfinished dreams.

It wasn't the first time that she was hearing voices or imagining a presence in the house. She didn't believe in ghosts and even if there were any, she certainly didn't think she would fear Catherine's. But memories were so strong in this house that she couldn't breathe without being clogged down with grief. Her head couldn't think beyond how much she was missing Catherine or how she was going to spend the rest of her life without the person she loved.

She wondered whether she should go back to her apartment.

* * *

When she opened her door, Gil Grissom was probably the last person she expected to see. However, she didn't let any emotion cross her face. She only eyed him with what she hoped was enough coolness. He, on the other hand, looked distraught, a state of affairs she had never imagined seeing him in. 

"Mr. Grissom, now what crime have you come to accuse me of?" She casually questioned.

"Lady Heather, I am not here as a CSI."

"Really?" Lady Heather pursed her lips in a sardonic smile. "I didn't think you could be anything else."

"There is a first time for everything." He gestured towards the inside. "Can I come in?"

"Depends. Why are you here?"

"Because I have no place else to go."

"So, I'm your last resort?"

"You are my only resort."

Their eyes met each other's for what seemed like an infinite duration. Finally, she sighed and moved aside. "Come in."

Grissom was struck by the "normalcy" inside. No one would have guessed that this was the house of Lady Heather, whose dominion used to offer unimaginable masochistic pleasure that could even surpass sexual ecstasy at times. The décor was simple but tasteful.

"How did you find me?" She settled down on a large divan, sheathed with Turkish brocades. Grissom did the same.

"You were not all that difficult to find. Lady Heather is a name that Las Vegas knows." He gave her a weak smile.

"And the name shall be forgotten. Las Vegas is not a city that dwells in memories but rather in opportunities. Sometimes, when the opportunity is lost…" She crossed her legs. "Everything is lost."

"What is a memory but a collection of opportunities lost forever?" He tried to hold her gaze. "And what do we possess from the past but memories?"

"Certain memories are better left in the dark. They do not please nor do they teach. They simply hurt."

He tilted his head. "Lady Heather is afraid of hurt?"

"I'm not invincible. I have my Achilles' Heel. But now… no more. What used to be my weakness is long gone from my life."

"Your daughter?"

"Yes." She tenderly stroked her fingernail, painted in a rich burgundy. "Why are you here, Mr. Grissom? Catching up with your victim's family doesn't resonate with your style."

"You are more than that." He reminded her.

"That's right. I was a suspect on two previous occasions." She murmured wryly.

Grissom wanted to correct her but he knew it was a discussion they better not get into. His previous actions had antagonized his relationship, or whatever it was, with Lady Heather.

"I'm hiding." He said.

"In my house?" She could have laughed. "From whom?"

"From myself." Her brows lifted at his statement. "You must have heard about Catherine."

She nodded. "I did. It's a terrible loss. I admired the woman."

"She was my friend." He closed his eyes. "And I lost her."

"It's not your fault."

"No, but Sara… whatever happened to her today is my fault."

"Sara?" Lady Heather asked, confused.

And like a torrent, everything flowed out. Grissom kept nothing inside. He wasn't accustomed to sharing his inner thoughts but this time, he found he couldn't control himself from _not_ sharing them. His friendship with Catherine, his oftentimes stormy relationship with Sara, his devastation at Catherine's death and his helplessness at Sara's questioning, all poured forth.

Lady Heather just listened, never interrupting. She was almost entranced by the array of emotions on the man's face. She used to have a wish, long since abandoned, to be able to stir Grissom's heart. She had even come close to catching a glimpse of the man behind the scientist. But never had she witnessed him dismantling in such a manner. For any other person, she might have experienced pity, sadness or perhaps even disgust. For him, she felt his every anguish as deeply as her own.

But of course, she wouldn't admit any of it to herself.

And then, if that wasn't enough, Grissom absolutely stunned her by asking, "What do you think I should do?"

"Are you so afraid to follow your heart?" She asked after observing the solemnity on his face.

"I am." He admitted. "I just don't know where I should stand. Being a criminalist was my entire life. It's probably the only thing I'm good at."

"That's what you believe?"

"I don't know what to believe."

"There's hardly ever anything you don't know." Despite herself, a little warmth teased its way into her voice.

"That's not true." He smiled.

"Gil." Her use of his first name took him by slight surprise. There was only one other instance when she had done the same. It was during the night she had disrobed him both physically and emotionally. It was also the last night when he had ever seen her happy.

"What?" He asked softly.

"You can't always be right. Sometimes you are wrong… and sometimes you are neither."

"It's the neither that scares me." He let out a dry laugh.

She propped her elbows on her knees and bent forward. "Maybe someone would come to Sara's aid. There might even be someone who can lend her ample support. But in Vegas, you are the only person who's known her for the longest. You've known her when no one knew her or even trusted her. You brought her into the hearts of your team. She could survive if they turn their backs on her. But if you do that, she might lose her own confidence in herself."

"I'm afraid to let her down."

"Then don't. You _know_ she is innocent. You might have no evidence to support it but you _know_."

"Yes, I do." Grissom slowly said. He was now sure of what he had to do. He had lost himself in the murkiness of his own professionalism. But he had forgotten that struggling with his human side will bring him nothing but agony.

"Thank you." He whispered. "You don't know how grateful I am."

Lady Heather nodded calmly but deep inside, she was a tumult.

"On this note." He wet his lips, suddenly very nervous. "I… err… I just needed to say I'm really sorry. My fault is too great and probably even non-redeemable. I just hope you have it in your heart to forgive me someday." Grissom abruptly stood up to leave.

He almost jumped when he felt her fingers brush his hand.

"I can't say if I'll ever forgive you." She said. "But I do wish that we take a step in the realm we've never touched before."

"And what realm would that be?"

"Friendship." Her green eyes flashed. For the first time in a long time, Grissom could sense some vestige of happiness flaming within him.

* * *

A/N : Thank you for all the reviews :) I suppose Catherine is appearing quite un-Cath-like right now.In her defense,three days of being drugged, starved and tied can boggle a person. But she'll be up and about soon enough! 


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

The break room at the Crime Lab was that one place where the CSIs and the friendlier detectives gathered to lighten up. It was like an oasis in the desert of gruesome violence and evilness in human hearts. Even when they would meet up to discuss cases, the team was able to leave behind whatever anger or sadness they carried.

But today it was different. The graveness that had descended upon the entire HQ like smog had even infested the break room. Nick, Greg and Warrick sat across each other like three apices of a triangle. Cold sandwiches lay untouched in front of them. The most they could bring themselves to consume were the sludge-ish coffee in the pot.

DNA lab was almost through with matching all the collected samples with the ones provided by anxious relatives. Official death toll was now twelve, with three still admitted into the hospital in critical condition and seven injured. As the CSIs scavenged more and more, a lot many dismembered bodies were found beneath the rubble. At the very least, some relatives would have the fortune to be able to bury or cremate their loved one's remains. Few wouldn't be this lucky.

They were yet to find any of Catherine's body parts. They did find her car, though, or what was left of it.

Greg rubbed his eyes tiredly. Warrick briefly glanced at his watch. It was way past sunset now. And yet, none of them could summon the courage to go home.

"I'll turn on the news." Nick spoke. The 20-inch TV sparked to life as he hit the remote. They were replaying the scores of the World Cup final. Suddenly, there was a buzz and an attractive woman came on the screen.

"Sorry for the interruption. We've just received breaking news concerning the explosion at The Boulevard." Jan King recited with enough inflection in her voice to garner the viewer's attention.

"Breaking news?" Greg wondered aloud.

"The bomb blast that shocked the city of Las Vegas into terror on Saturday has grappled the police department's undeterred attention. Our correspondents have received information that the LVPD has a suspect. The alleged culprit is none other but someone from the inside, by the name of Sara Sidle." Photos of the burnt parking lot appeared in slow succession. "Sara Sidle is a criminalist in the PD's crime lab. Catherine Willows, another CSI said to have been killed in that same explosion, was on very intimate terms with Ms. Sidle. There is a strong possibility that the crime was personally motivated. The sheriff has been unavailable for comments."

"What the hell!" Nick exclaimed, not believing his eyes or ears.

"Who released it to the press?" Greg was in the same state of shock.

Warrick stood up, bristling with rage. "I won't need three guesses."

Arnold Harper wasn't alone when Warrick walked into his office. Sheriff Brackett was present in his entire thousand dollar suit. One look at his face, though, said he was furious. Warrick couldn't care less about being cordial with the Sheriff. He directly faced Harper.

"You're some piece of work." He spat.

Harper raised his hands defensively. "I didn't speak to the press."

"Right."

"He's telling the truth." Sheriff Brackett wiped his face. "Harper didn't talk to the press. He's been with me for the past four hours. We were discussing what to expose to the media when we saw the news."

Warrick slumped. "Any idea, who could have done it?"

"No. But at the moment, that's the least of our concerns. We have to think of how to ward off the media frenzy. We are going to look terrible." Harper ran a disgruntled hand across his hair. He couldn't believe his day. He had zero sleep in God-knows-how-many hours and what he thought was a high-profile career-making case was soon turning out to be a nightmare.

"Is that all you care about, looking good?" Warrick hissed.

"For the time being, yeah!" Harper snapped back.

"Okay, both of you, calm down." The Sheriff muttered. "We have to decide what to do about it and the last thing I need is friction in my department. Where's Grissom?"

"He said he had something to do." Warrick replied.

"Well, get him."

* * *

Rocky grunted in disappointment when Catherine covered herself with a blanket. He had been looking forward to seeing her feminine curves outlined in the flimsy shirt and pajamas. Initially, he was livid when he came to know that his job would entail keeping an eye on the woman through hidden cameras. Rocky had hoped for something more adrenaline-rushed. But one look at Catherine Willows and he had changed his mind. He used to think he wasn't into older women, but now he had to reevaluate his opinion. Of course, he couldn't lay a hand on her, but he could always indulge in voyeuristic pleasure. 

"What's she doing?" Kristen walked in.

"Nothing." He muttered. "I think you've given her too much of that shit. She's hardly moved after eating."

"That's the idea, genius. If she is lucid, she'll think. And trust me; you don't want her to think."

"But you sure you know the dosage? Remember what the Boss said, no harming her?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm pre-med, give me some credit."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Rocky shoved several fries into his mouth.

"You know how much calories are in those things?" Kristen murmured disgustedly.

Rocky eyed her reed thin frame. "Well, it sure won't hurt ya."

In the background, the tempo of the TV sound suddenly changed. Kristen recognized the newsreading.

"Fuck! The bitch should have been awake for this."

"Shh." Kristen snapped, her eyes glued on the screen. For a while, there were no other sounds but that of the news reporter and Rocky's teeth as it munched on the greasy potatoes.

As Jan King repeated the news of the explosion and Sara Sidle's alleged involvement in it, Kristen and Rocky glowed in delight.

"Oh yeah, the plan's in sweet motion." She grinned.

* * *

Janet Simmons threw the cheap, disposable cell phone into the waste bin of the grocery store. She casually glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Everyone was too busy with sliding their carts across the aisles and making sure they don't bump against the ever-increasing evening crowds. She gathered her bag of corned beef and squeezed her way close to the walls. That way, she knew, there was less of a chance of her being caught by the security cameras. She doubted the CSIs would really trace the person who had leaked information to the press. But she didn't want to take any chances. Her continued well-being relied on her being an 'inside' person. 

She put on her sunglasses and let her hair fall in front. Janet knew she wasn't a striking beauty and therefore not likely to be noticed. But for the past couple of months, she had started to get quite paranoid. The money was good and so was the career prospect. But were she ever to be discovered, she would be fired straight out.

Her guilty conscience pricked but she had learnt to ignore it. Years of staring into the face of evil, having nightmares of unimaginable horrors, being paid a meager sum and not getting any time for enjoyment, had cured her of any saintly thoughts. Besides, if there was anyone she was truly harming, it was Sara Sidle. The woman was vile and truly deserved everything that was to happen to her. She had the Sidle genes. Environments could be changed, but who you are never changes. Janet had met the brother and even though she was, in a way, working for him, she barely kept her resentment for the man a secret.

She got into her Tahoe when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Christ!" She screamed, her heart almost stopping for a moment. "What are you doing here?"

Sean Sidle smiled. "Would you have rather preferred I meet you in open view of everyone?"

"I would have rather preferred you not meet me at all." She shot back.

"Ah."

"So, what do you want?"

"Another favor."

"Will I be getting something for it?" The words left a bitter taste in Janet's mouth.

"Of course."

* * *

Sorry for the late and short chapter. Drenching in the rain is never a good idea if you don't wanna get sick. Therefore, until the hammer stops pounding my head, I might not be able to update. I am also painfully aware of the lack of romance in the last several chapters. I'll definitely make up for it in the forthcoming ones. I just wanted to provide a fair introduction to allthe characters/traitors involved. Thank you for R&R-ing. 


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen**

Sara had to appreciate the irony. Her side of the closet was jam-packed with black. Her wardrobe ran through all the dark shades of various hues, from red to violet. But right then, she couldn't think of one appropriate thing to wear… to Catherine's service.

She shared the huge walk-in closet with Catherine. Both sides were a startling contrast. Catherine's section was abundant in design, color and numbers. It wasn't so much that Sara didn't like to dress up, as it was that she hated shopping. She lost patience after spending more than ten minutes in any one store. As a result, she avoided the task as much as possible.

Sara barely glanced towards the other side as she chose what to wear. However, she couldn't ignore the scent wafting from that end and it sent her heart into another painful thud. She weakly picked out a pair of black dress pants and an even darker linen shirt and laid it on the bed. However, that little effort seemed to have depleted her off all energy and she collapsed on the mattress. For the last twenty four hours, all she had done was cried and slept, both in fitful episodes. Already, that one day had proven to be excruciatingly long, with nothing but torment to give her company.

She raised her left hand to get a better look at her fingers. A wistful smile broke out just as fresh tears soaked her eyes. The diamond on her ring caught the light and shone. She closed her eyes to escape the glare.

---

_Sara nervously played with the rose petals. She had already crushed two of them by accident She didn't want to look at her watch because she feared it would tell her that there was still time. She had never experienced the seconds crawl at such an agonizingly slow speed. After realizing that the cut-glass vase would have nothing left in it if she continued damaging the flower, she stopped. She then turned her attention to the neatly arranged napkin and began unfolding it, only to refold it once again._

"_Is there something else you would like, Ma'am?" The waiter asked, trying to hide his amusement._

"_No." She shook her head. She had already downed five full glasses of water and her bladder had begun complaining. "Are you sure Ms. Willows reserved this table? There has been no mistake?"_

"_None at all, Ma'am."_ _He politely replied. "This is indeed the table Ms. Willows reserved."_

"_Oh." Sara forced a smile. The setting was perfect and Catherine had arranged for their very own private waiter. The table overlooked the serene Lake Mead. The full moon, accompanied by jewel-like stars, was reflected upon its calm waters. The other diners were quite far away and this gave the place a solitary air._

"_Perhaps you would like some aperitif?" The waiter asked, eagerly. "We have choice selections of sherry, Madeira, Vermouth…"_

"_No, thanks."_ _Sara cut in. "I'll wait for Ms. Willows."_

"_Anything to eat?_ _The restaurant specializes in seafood Hors d'œuvres_."

"_That sounds lovely, but not yet." Then Sara frowned. "Unless Ms. Willows asked you to serve them."_

_He shrugged. "She gave no specific instructions other than taking care of you until she arrives."_

_Sara sighed. "I guess I can have some Sherry. Thanks."_

_The waiter looked delighted to be of use. Sara wished that Catherine and Lindsay would soon arrive. At the rate her pulse was firing, she was afraid she'll end up with ruptured cardiac muscles. _

_Sara had dressed for the occasion, planning her proposal for a long many weeks. She knew that ideally she should be planning the dinner if she was the one who was proposing. But there was no way that she could wait anymore and she doubted that their jobs would spare either of them for a second romantic escapade such as this. She opened the jewelry box and admired the ring. Even though she had little interest in fashion, she knew a lot about precious stones. Her hippie parents had been briefly involved in some illegal gem trade and as a result, she had learnt to discern the quality ones. The diamond had been expensive but worth every little cent. Besides, she could hardly put a price on the feelings she had for Catherine._

"_Sara?"_

"_Catherine!" Sara clumsily snatched her hand away from the table, hiding the box just in time. "Hi!"_

"_What is that in your hand?" Catherine furrowed her brow._

"_N-nothing." Sara flushed. She quickly changed the topic. "Where's Lindsay?"_

"_She'll be here in a while." The woman narrowed her eyes towards Sara's hidden hand but didn't broach the topic anymore. "What are you having?"_

"_Sherry, Ma'am." The waiter replied for her, as he appeared with his tray. "Would you like something, Ms. Willows?"_

"_The same."_

_Sara had to stop herself from gawking but she found it immensely difficult. The woman sitting in front of her oozed sensuality. The reddish streaks in her golden mane were highlighted by the dinner glow. The color in Catherine's eyes was intensified by the aquamarine gown clinging intimately to every curve. A matching pearl necklace brought out the creaminess of her skin._

"_So…" Sara managed to speak, "What's the special occasion?"_

"_I wanted us to spend some time together." Catherine looked at her through the flame. "But that's not all. I needed to talk to you."_

"_Oh? About?"_

"_About us."_

"_Us?" Why doesn't this sound good, Sara inwardly cringed._

"_We have been dating for a while now."_

_Sara angled her head but didn't say anything._

"_It has been a wonderful thing, it really has. You moving in has had such a positive effect on Lindsay. My daughter adores you. We all do."_

"_Why do I sense a but coming my way?"_

_Catherine took in a deep breath. "But I need for Lindsay to believe in stable relationships, someone to come home to, a real family, a… a…"_

"_A dad?" Sara couldn't keep the bite from the words._

_The blonde doubled, "No, not really, that's not what I meant. But another parent, yes."_

"_Carry on." Sara's nervousness had turned into full-fledged panic and she drank some of the wine to smooth the edges._

"_I guess, what I'm trying to say is…I… we have something great going on here. Not that I want it to end… I mean, not really. It's just that…that Lindsay feels so much… I feel so much… I-I…"_

_Sara raised a hand to stop the rambling. "It's okay, Catherine. I get it."_

"_You do?"_

_The brunette avoided Catherine's eyes but instead fixed them upon the damaged petals lying close to the vase. The outline of the ring box that she held tightly, dug into the softness of her palm. "You are breaking up with me." She whispered._

"_What?" Catherine squeaked out. "No!"_

"_No?" Sara asked in disbelief._

"_Of course not! What makes you think so?"_

_Before Sara could reply, she continued in one breath, "I just didn't know how to tell you that I love you. I know it's too soon for you and I didn't want to overwhelm you, but it all came out stupidly and now you think…"_

"_Wait… you love me?" Sara blinked._

"_L-Lindsay… Lindsay loves you." Catherine stuttered, realizing what she had said._

"_And you?"_

_After a moment of silence._

"_I-I, yes… I do." Catherine blushed. "I wanted to tell you this properly but I have no idea why my brain stops working whenever I'm around you."_

_She mistook Sara's baffled expression and quickly placed a hand over the woman's. "I don't mean to pressurize you, Sara. I know you find all this very new and you are getting used to this whole thing. I also know how much you value your career and fear the problems our relationship will cause for you." _

_"Cath, I…" _

_"Gosh, I even got a ring. I mean I should have asked you first but my impatience got the better of me as usual. I'm really sorry." Catherine was twirling the fork absently. _

_"You got a ring?" Sara was beyond stunned. _

_"You know what, forget what I said. I'm an idiot who's just getting ahead of herself. What we have is amazing and let's keep it that way." Catherine mumbled, cursing her own folly. _

_"But Catherine…" _

_"I shouldn't have imposed such a thing upon you without discussing it thoroughly with you. But when do I ever do anything right?" She went on, not noticing Sara's weak attempts to speak. _

_"Catherine, wait!" Sara squeezed the older woman's fingers so hard that she almost jumped. "Can you be quiet and listen to me?" _

_>---->

* * *

_

Catherine winced when she moved. Cramps had gripped all the muscles on her right side. She realized that she had been that sitting position for a long time. Her sudden dozing off had become so regular that she had lost count. Slowly, she tried to uncurl herself but a painful trickle of electric shock ran down her leg and she collapsed back.

"This is going to take forever." She muttered, stretching her limbs gradually and waiting for the cramps to ebb. Meanwhile, she distractedly played with her ring. It was only when her fingertips brushed against the hard surface of a rock that she looked down at it. She admired the perfect cut of the diamond and the way it split visible light into soft blazes of rainbow. Despite the murkiness in her brain, she remembered that night with clarity. So clear was the memory that she could almost see it play out right in front of her. She had tried to tell Sara that she loved her and wanted to marry her, but instead, she had verbally fumbled around like a red-nosed idiot. She had almost expected the woman to laugh at her or end their affair right then or both.

>---->

_The air was alive with the sounds of crickets singing to their mates. A faint rippling hummed in the background as the wind flirted with the calm waters of the Lake. The fragrance of freshly bloomed primroses, mixed with the headier scent of burnt candles and body perfume, teased their nostrils. The wide theatre that was the sky, dotted by its glowing audience, smiled down at them. _

_This wasn't new to her. She had been asked on countless candlelight dinners by several men and one of them had even culminated into the disastrous ending called Eddie. But that night, she seemed to have been transported into the land where fairytales came true. It had none of the artificial quality she was so used to in all her previous "romantic" dates. In fact, she hadn't even realized she had been missing something from those associations until that instant. _

_That night, when Sara whispered the three words 'I love you', she knew that if ever there was paradise, that was it. It wasn't just the fact that Sara had never spoken those words to anyone else before, let alone her. It wasn't even the fact that her long-harbored wish of having her feelings reciprocated had come true. It was the bared honesty in those dark eyes that touched her very core. Sara was looking at her in a way no one had ever done before. She had seen an entire spectrum of emotions reflected in people's eyes whenever they saw her. But never had anyone stared at her with complete abandonment. She knew that the woman wasn't just offering her life, but also her heart and soul, to her. And Catherine knew she had been privileged with the highest honor; the stuff that she had dared to imagine only in her fanciful teenage years. _

_"Catherine?" Sara held out her hand. "Would you bestow upon me the delight to spend the rest of my life with you?" _

_Catherine was afraid to even move, afraid that everything would disssolve like a dream if she did. Somehow, she managed to find her voice. "Sara, this… this… I never knew… I-I don't know what to say." _

_"A yes will be nice." Sara teased. Her expression then turned serious."I know I don't say it often. Me and emotions, they never understand each other." She was giving her a shaky smile. "But I can't deny them any longer and every one of them tells me that I want to be with you and Lindsay." _

_"Really? You are sure about it?" Catherine was still dazed. _

_"More sure than I've ever been in my life. You have no idea how happy you and Lindsay make me." _

_"And you make us happy, Sara." Lindsay seemed to appear from nowhere, shocking the two woman. _

_"When did you come?" Her mother frowned. _

_"Mom, I've been here since forever." The girl rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Both of you were too busy oggling at each other to notice." _

_"Lindsay." Sara spoke intently. "Do I have your permission and acceptance to share in your and your Mom's life?" _

_She smirked. "Hell yeah! Mom drove me crazy rehearsing her proposal speech for you." _

_Catherine blushed. The brunette was grinning lovingly at both of them. She then retrieved a tiny box dressed in rich velvet. When she opened it, Catherine almost choked. A handsomely cut diamond rested on a band of white gold. But more importantly, it looked hauntingly familiar. _

_"Holy shit! Are you guys telepathic?" Lindsay's jaw was hanging. Catherine was too astounded to correct her daughter on the use of bad language. _

_"What do you mean?" Sara's gaze darted back and forth between them. _

_"Well, this sure is creepy." The girl held out an identical box and opened it to reveal the exact same ring. She smiled. "In a cool way." _

_Sara broke out into fits of chuckle after her initial surprise wore off. _

_"May I?" Catherine reached out her hand. Sara hesitated only for a fraction of a second before placing her own hand in them. The blonde took the ring and slowly slipped it onto Sara's finger. She did the same. Even with the exchange complete, their fingers were reluctant to part. _

_"Ahem, now that we are done the mushy part, can we order dinner? The things I endure for you guys." Lindsay gave a self-satisfied smug. _

_"Shut up, you know you love it." Sara hit her playfully. _

_She pouted. "I so do not." _

_Catherine gently laced her hand with Sara's and through the warm light, she gazed at her family adoringly. If this was a dream, she never wanted it to end. _

>---->

Catherine groaned with the effort of trying to stand up. Revisiting memories of that night had seemed to slice through her lethargy. Even though her body protested, she knew she had to fight. She had to fight to return back to her family.

* * *

This chapter is for all those who were wondering what happened that night at Lake Mead. A little fluff to neutralize the torture I've put all of you through... :P 

For all those who haven't read **The Line Between Shadow and Love,** this scene is just them proposing to each other after twelve months of dating.

Thank you for reading! And now, back to the suspense... (insert X Files Theme)


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty**

As soon as Sara got out of her car, she knew that this was going to be a mass memorial. It almost seemed as if the entire city had gathered in the sanctuary to pay their last respects to the victims of The Boulevard explosion. She felt a pang of guilt at having kept herself from interacting with Lily or Nancy in the last couple of days. She realized she should have tried helping. It was the least she could have done for Catherine.

"Sara." Sofia Curtis had to jostle against a crowd to reach her.

Sara could only manage a nod. This was not the time for exchanging pleasantries. Sofia took her by the elbow and led her towards a quieter area. She didn't protest. Her head was indeed paining looking at the number of people present. A path curved around a marble fountain. By the looks of the dried leaves scattered on the stoned floor, Sara guessed it wasn't a regularly used passage.

"How are you doing?" Sofia quietly asked.

"I've had better days." Sara admitted.

They walked past trimmed vines curling around sticks to form a tall, green wall. Sara could hear a melancholy tune being played on the strings of the violin. An alcove was built on top of a flowing pond and the women walked through it. On the other side, it opened out into a large area. Sara could make out Lily conversing with a couple of women in the distance. She recognized Ecklie and Sheriff Brackett. But she could see no signs of Lindsay or the other CSIs.

However, just as she emerged amongst them, she was disconcerted by the odd looks the people threw her way. She had hardly begun understanding, when Sam Braun stepped right in front of her.

"What do you think you are doing here?" He glowered.

"What… what do you mean?" She stammered in confusion.

"For God's sake, Sara, did you have to come here and spoil this too?"

"What are you talking about?"

Sofia, who was now standing by her side, placed a hand on Sam's shoulders. "Mr. Braun, maybe we shouldn't create a scene." She told him calmly.

He looked at her as if she was mad. "_I_ am the one who's creating a scene? What do you think she's doing, coming here with all these families and media reporters waiting?"

"I can handle the press." Sara returned defiantly.

"Oh, sure you can. You have absolutely nothing to lose, after all. But there are respectable people out here, Sidle."

"What you think makes no difference to me." She tried to push her way past Sam but he solidly stood his ground.

"I didn't think it would. How about if Lily tells you the same thing?"

Just as Sara was getting over her shock, he called for Lily to accompany them. The woman looked drawn and weary. No amount of makeup could hide the shadows under her eyes or the tightness at the corners of her lips.

"Tell Sara that she's not needed here." Sam almost ordered.

Lily was looking down. "Sara, he's right. It's best for you to leave."

"What?" Sara gasped. "How can you ask me this? I'm here for your daughter."

"If it was just about Catherine, we would have tolerated you. But not when the families of other victims are present too." Lily wrung her hands together. "Leave, Sara."

Sara felt anger rising in her throat. "Tolerate me? All these months have you just been _tolerating me_, Lily? And why should the families of other victims have a problem with me?"

Sofia, who was witnessing the exchange get heated every second, asked gently. "Sara, have you watched the news recently?"

"What has that…" Sara turned to glare at her when she noticed the dead seriousness in the detective's eyes. She took a deep breath and shook her head.

"Figures." Sam murmured wryly. "Maybe you should have. You would have saved us all a lot of trouble and kept your face hidden."

Sara's fury was only topped by her perplexity. She looked at each of them, willing them to tell her what was going on. Finally, she voiced the question.

"Sara, we have seen everything. The people have seen everything. We know about you, Courtney Andrews and the fact that you are a suspect." Lily answered.

"What?" Sara moved back as if she had been hit. "How?"

"It's all over the news."

Sara slowly turned towards Sofia. "You. You people informed the press?" She asked in disbelief. "How could you?"

"No, it wasn't me or any of Grissom's people. But it's probably someone from the department." Sofia confessed regretfully. "We thought you already saw the news."

"Great. This is just freaking awesome." The brunette clenched her fists together, trying to swallow the lumps of tears.

"But, surely, Mrs. Flynn, Sara can still attend…" Sofia feebly began.

"No, she can't." Lily's adamancy both stunned and hurt Sara deeply. "If she comes in here, the media is going to go crazy chasing her. I don't even want to talk about what the other families would be feeling. It's best if she stays away."

Sofia felt intensely sorry for Sara but she had to concede that Lily had a point. There is going to be utter outrage if Sara enters the main sanctuary. A memorial, supposed to be conducted in reverent silence, would now become a live circus. She was helpless at the unfairness of the situation.

"My daughter suffered a terrible and undeserved demise." Sam's eyes were narrowed. "And you could very well be the cause. The least you could do is grant her some respect on this day."

Sara opened her mouth to protest when she saw Lindsay. The girl had noticed her too.

"I want to speak with Lindsay."

"No!" He snapped. "She's going through a lot. The last thing she needs is for you to be here."

"I have to speak to her." Sara wished she could sound firmer, but all she mustered was a faint squeak. "I'll go away, just allow me to talk to Lindsay."

"Lindsay saw the news." Lily's tiredly spoke.

Every bit of hope was crumbling for Sara. She kept her eyes on the girl but at that distance she couldn't read her expression. She could only pray it wasn't resentment. "She saw the news? She saw everything?"

"Can you imagine what the little child must have been through?" Sam pursed his lips. "Do her a favor and spare her anymore pain."

Sara's ache rose in her chest to suffocate. Sofia raised a hand to placate her, but she pushed it away. With every passing moment, it seemed she had no one left in her life. The meager relationships that she had made and cherished were tearing apart right in front of her. There was only one thing she could do. There was only one thing Sara Sidle did when hurt was the only thing left inside her. Without another word, she turned to run. She didn't know where she went, she didn't care who she collided against, and she just ran.

She was still running when she got into her car and turned on the ignition. The traffic lights, the vehicles plying on the asphalt, the road signs, all blurred into obscurity. She registered nothing until she saw the Parisian styled structure of Le Boulevard. Her car slowly maneuvered through the narrow streets towards the shopping center. Weekend shoppers were far less than the usual, as was expected after the bomb attack. Sara slid towards the parking lot. The crime scene tapes were gone and construction workers had already started the repairing process. The managers surely didn't want to lose any more business than they already had. Sara parked at some distance. She dug into her pockets to procure her CSI badge. She had almost not brought it with her, but now she was glad she did. It would give her access into this otherwise restricted section.

* * *

Catherine had assumed correctly. The food, they were bringing her, was drugged and causing the sluggishness in her brain. To test her hypothesis, she hadn't touched the pizza they brought for lunch. Sure enough, she felt much better and was improving by the minute. She also found it strange that she saw none of the captors again but there was always food promptly delivered on the table. It could only mean one thing. They knew when she was sleeping and took that opportunity. That meant that her every move was being watched. 

She walked around a little while, trying to come up with a plan. In the few minutes of consciousness that she had enjoyed, she had realized that her room was most likely built in a basement. There were wooden stairs inconspicuously tucked in a far corner. More than once, she had heard footsteps thumping on them through the haze in her mind. A basement room meant no windows and therefore no way of knowing where she was. The vents were too high for her to reach and the bed and the one chair was too low to be useful. Her only route of escape was through the door at the top of the stairs. But she didn't doubt that the place would be guarded. Then there was the problem of the camera. She couldn't see where they were hidden and didn't try to find them either. She didn't want them to think that their little scheme had been discovered. The less they thought of her intelligence, the easier it would be for her to surprise them. It also meant that she couldn't avoid not eating for too long. They would definitely realize something was amiss.

Catherine gave her bed a passing glance. During the times when they came to deliver food, they also provided her with fresh clothes and emptied the garbage. The cooling system was turned on to moderate, just enough for comfort. It was obvious that they wanted her to remain cozy. She was beginning to understand that hurting her was not part of their plan. In fact, for some reason, their best interests lay in keeping her away from any kind of distress.

She remembered seeing a women's shaving kit in the bathroom closet. She wondered if they had installed cameras there and shuddered at the thought. But right then, she needed one place where she could cut herself without being immediately noticed and therefore rescued before the injury got serious.

She sat down in front of the television. What she was going to do would require a lot of consideration. But before that, she needed to see the news and comprehend what the situation was before taking any drastic steps. She turned on the TV.

* * *

He had called out Sara's name a couple of times but she hadn't stopped running. She crashed against him, but continued on, unaware of his presence. When he saw a very pale Sofia trailing further behind, he knew something terrible had happened. 

"What the hell's going on?" He demanded to know.

Sofia related to him the entire conversation that took place between Sara, Sam Braun and Lily. He would have relished walking over to Sam and giving him a piece of his own mind. But he knew that right then Sara needed him more. Muttering to Sofia to keep things under control, he paced after Sara. He saw her start her car and panic gripped him. He wasted no time in getting into his own SUV. His adrenaline levels spiked as he followed her across the busy streets of Vegas. The Sara he knew wasn't suicidal or even self-destructive. But the series of recent events were enough to depress anyone.

To his relief, she was driving within the speed limits and didn't seem to be taking any dangerous chances. However, when she swerved on towards the Boulevard shopping plaza, he felt a familiar sense of unease. He wasn't entirely sure that her revisiting the explosion site in this state of mind was a good idea.

He saw her dark form walk atop the dirt piles towards one of the construction workers. They quickly conversed and one of the workers directed her a look of annoyance. But the authority of the badge won and she entered past the orange fence. He mimicked her route and flashed his identity in front of the workers. They gave him a look that wavered somewhere between irritation and curiosity.

He found Sara in a relatively isolated area, which also happened to be the region with maximum devastation, the core of the explosion. She was on her knees; her fingers were sifting through the dirt.

"Sara." He announced his presence.

"Grissom, what are you doing here?" She sounded neither surprised nor angry.

Grissom lowered himself to the same level as hers. "I was worried about you so I followed you."

She cast him a strange glance before once again looking downwards. "As you see, I'm fine. You can leave me alone now."

"I've come here to take you back. You have every right to be there and I'll make sure that's what happens."

Sara shook her head. "I don't want to fight them, Grissom. I can't fight them. Everyone thinks I'm responsible. I won't able to see the repulsion in their eyes. Seeing it in Lily's was more than enough for me."

"No one thinks you are responsible." He firmly stated. "What is being circulated in the media is just hearsay."

"You think anyone cares about the truth?"

"I do."

She sighed. "People are not like you. They hardly look beyond their immediate prejudices and judgments."

"Then they are wrong. And if they are wrong, why should you care about them?"

Sara picked up a fistful of dirt and brought it close to her face. "How do you know they are wrong? You, who always follow the evidence, believe in nothing else."

"Evidences do not lie, human beings falter. I know you are innocent, but we are yet to find evidence to support you. That doesn't mean it's not there."

She gave a dry chuckle. "I bet you don't say all that in any of your seminars."

Grissom had a far-away expression. "I've been here for so long and interpreting the evidence according to science has always been my motto. But the human element is far from unscientific. If I trust in you, it's hardly without grounds."

Sara remained silent for a while. Whether thinking about what he just said or just absorbing the feel of the place, Grissom wasn't sure. However, she turned to him and he saw her wipe a stray tear with the back of her hand.

"How do you do this, Grissom? Every time that I want to run away, you manage to stop me. How do you do this?"

He knew she was referring to the countless occasions at the beginning when she had almost returned to San Francisco.

"Because I needed you and because I knew that eventually the team will need you too."

Sara faintly smiled. "Do you remember how much Catherine hated me initially? Gosh, did I have problems with her. For so long we could hardly stand each other."

"I admit those days were very interesting." He teased, which earned him a playful scoff from Sara. He then wrapped an arm loosely around her slumped shoulder. "You are a part of us and even if it's going to take us everything to fight for you, we will."

Sara slowly laid her head on his chest. He patted her and she drew closer, snuggling to his jacket for comfort.

Unbeknownst to them, a man was capturing their friendly intimacy on camera. Sara Sidle was the new media darling and he knew that these pictures would bring him a hefty sum and secure him a long-craved entry into the biggies.

* * *


	22. Chapter Twenty One

**Author's Note:** This and another forthcoming chapter will be a kind of homage paid by individual characters to Catherine. So, I hope you'll be able to follow the first person POV.There's going to be a lot of flashbacks and introspections, all from Grissom, Warrick, Nick, Greg and Brass. There won't be anything from Sara or Catherine, but they will be mentioned often enough in the flashbacks. This particular chapter contains mild spoilers from _Nesting Dolls,Bang Bang_and _Way To Go_. Also, if you've watched _Alter Boys_, you'll get the significance of the part with Grissom. And all pathetic attempts at poetry are mine, so I can't put the blame on anyone else (looks away)

**Chapter Twenty One**

"I weighed not the value of your friendship

For I never felt the need to

I knew you shall always side me

Until I lost you"

My real name is Gilbert J. Grissom. Very few people, that is, people I can count with one hand, call me Gil. Most call me Grissom. There was a time when I reveled in being called _Doctor_ Grissom, but very soon that novelty wore off. Of course, the strangers I meet during my cases call me _Mister_ Grissom. You can call me anything you want; most of the times I won't notice.

I'm not prone to introspection. My mother used to say that I'm like one of those ancient Babylonians who were amazed by what was in the sky. They spent so much time in studying the stars that they often forgot what awaited them on earth. According to her, I devote all my effort in studying other people, deciphering what evil lurks beneath them that I never look inside me. What can I say; my mother is one perceptive woman.

But today, even I cannot be deterred from reflecting back. Sara requested some time alone at the parking lot. Knowing Sara, she usually needs some private time to nurse her wounds. There is just this far that she could be pushed and after that, you have to trust her. I told her I will be waiting by the car but my destination was forgotten when I heard the distinct toll of bells. I could see the spires of a Church rising just a block away.

I felt the familiar coolness on entering inside. As usual, the interiors were dim, save for the sunlight filtering through the high stained-glass windows on which various scenes from the Gospel were painted. The only inhabitants of the otherwise empty pews were the leather-bound hymn books. I recognized some of the Saints, sculpted with their faces marked in serene kindness. There were also the prominent Fourteen Stations of the Cross on the fourteen pillars. I could perhaps go on and on about the aesthetic beauty that Churches are known for, but I shall not digress further.

While my faith in God has remained somewhat intact over the years, my faith in the Church, in Christianity or any religion for that matter, has diminished until it has become negligible. So, you ask, what I'm doing here. The answer is not a simple one.

Burning candles on both sides of the Altar said that either members of the Clergy or individuals with desperate needs have been in here recently. I brought no candles; I didn't even have a prayer.

I took out my wallet and there, tucked beneath my identity and credit cards, were two pictures. One was of my mother, looking energetic as always and the other was a group picture taken during last year's LVPD charity function. People, who know me, will be surprised at such sentimentality on my part. But I'm not unemotional, I'm just unexpressive.

In these group pictures, I never stand alone. Catherine's always there with me. She used to say we are like _yin_ and _yang_, complementing each other perfectly. Many would be surprised that our relationship never strayed into the romantic area. Do I think she is beautiful? Of course. Have I been attracted towards her? I wouldn't be human if I hadn't ever been drawn to this combination of looks and intellect. However, did I want something more than friendship with her? The answer is a plain no. You can only form certain relationships with certain people. Even me, with my supposedly limited social circle, knows that.

I still remember clearly the first day I had a conversation with her. My then boss, Dr. Girard, had introduced me to her. She was to be our new lab technician. I could already see that she had the rest of the lab, 99.99 male at that time, fawning over her. However, my reason for gawking was entirely different. I remembered her from a case I had solved at the French Palace. She was one of the exotic dancers there. When her eyes met mine, I could see that she recognized me too.

---

"_Dr. Grissom?"_

_I looked up, slightly irritated. I had been struggling to finish my case reports and leaving early. There was a roach race at the Convention._

"_Catherine Willows."_ _She introduced herself, mistaking my blank expression for non-recognition._

"_Yes, what can I do for you?"_

"_I just…" She took a moment to choose her words. "I was hoping that you wouldn't say anything about the last time we met."_

_It irked me that she would categorize me amongst the many other gossip-mongers in the lab. "It is none of my business what you do outside here."_

"_No, of course not._ _It's just that, such a piece of news is hard to keep hidden." She smiled. "I know you haven't told anybody yet otherwise I should be holding my resignation already."_

"_If you were chosen to work here, you obviously fulfill the criteria. Why should your private life be of any importance?" I questioned, somewhat confused._

_She chuckled at my naiveté. "Do you know how hard it was for me to get this job in the first place? Me, woman…" A scoff. "Anyways, if they came to know I used to work as a stripper, they would have enough moral grounds to fire me."_

"_Would they?" I asked, still puzzled. As far as I knew, such discrimination wasn't allowed. Then again, those days, I knew little. _

_She shrugged._

"_Well, no one will hear it from me." I assured her._

_She nodded, pleased. _

"_Besides, we all have our secrets."_

"_You do? You don't look like a man with secrets." _

"_Hmm, let's see. How does, 'I'm getting late for a cockroach professional race' sound to you?"_

_She gave me a bewildered stare before breaking into a throaty laughter. "I like your sense of humor, Dr. Grissom." She was still laughing when she left me alone. Of course, over the years, she came to know that I was serious about the race. _

_---_

She is one of the people with whom I have come close to, but strictly as a best friend. That doesn't mean there haven't been rumors. I believe, every woman I have dated have felt intimidated by the closeness I share with Catherine. But we survived all gossip. We even endured the usual office politics that could tear apart the strongest of bonds. We both had been through several emotional rollercoasters, she in particular. There was a time when Ecklie had split our teams, but we still managed to see each other every day or ask for help. Our friendship had probably been the only stable thing in the entire duration we had known each other. Though, it did come very close to disintegrating once. Ironically, it was over Sara.

---

_I had just returned after talking to Sara. I have known the woman for so long and yet at times it seems as if I don't know her at all. When she told me about her parents, I was shocked. Not so much because of the horror of it, I see enough of that everyday, but because it had happened to her. _

_When I reached home, I see Catherine waiting outside. I was going to hate this._

"_Why, Gil?" Her eyes were flashing angrily. "Why do you cut her so much slack?"_

_I sigh. "Catherine, she is an excellent CSI. I'm not being partial."_

"_She insulted me in front of the entire lab and yet you defend her. You call this being impartial?"_

"_Domestic abuse cases get to her."_

"_And therefore she is allowed to throw caution to the wind? Aren't you the one who said that we should be professional when on cases, or are those rules not applicable to your friend?" She smacked sarcastically._

"_You have no idea what she's been through, Cath!" I snap, defending both myself and Sara. _

_I could see she was torn between anger and her curiosity to find out what exactly I meant. I took advantage of the situation._

"_Look, why don't you just talk to her?"_

"_No, thanks."_

"_Seriously, Cath._ _It's been five years since she's come here and you are probably the only person who hasn't completely embraced her as one of our own."_

"_What does she expect from me, a red carpet?"_

"_Why do you hate her so much?" My head was throbbing. I hated arguing, but as long as these two were antagonistic towards each other, I had no other way. _

"_I don't hate her!" She looked almost horrified at the suggestion. _

"_Is it because she couldn't bring Eddie's case to closure?" _

"_No… I mean, yes, but not entirely."_

_I waited for her to add more, but she was looking away, her brows furrowed in thought. After a while, I raised my hands up in truce. "Look, you have everyone to support you. You have Ecklie to support you. Sara has no one. Just get to know her; she's not as bad as you think."_

"_I never said she was bad." Catherine shook her head. "I just don't like how she… treats me as if I'm an enemy."_

_That was interesting. I had never noticed Sara doing that. I had always assumed it was the other way round and Catherine never cared much for Sara, one way or the other. _

"_Maybe she is just wary of you. You haven't really given her a reason not to be." I remind her._

_She glared at me. "There you go, taking her side again."_

"_This is not a competition." I was exasperated. _

"_It's the first time, you haven't had my back. You know how that makes me feel?"_

"_What happened today was wrong, but she doesn't deserve to be fired because of it. All I ask is for you to give her a chance. Get to know Sara, Cath. You'll be surprised."_

_---_

There is that well-known Crucifix above the altar. No, I'm not religious. No, I'm not sentimental. But I'm still here. I cannot even begin to figure out why.

Maybe I don't want to admit to myself that without Catherine, I feel crippled.

* * *

"Some words are unspoken

Some hearts never see the light

A tear drops to the ground

As I watch you step into the night"

---

"_Hey." I sat down beside her. She looked up at me. Her eyes were heavy and her face pasty. But her face glowed when she smiled. Struck as always by this woman, I felt the familiar increase in my pulse rate. _

"_Hey, shouldn't you be home? You've stayed by Brass since last night."_

"_For a moment I thought we lost him." I looked through the glass windows at the sleeping form of Jim Brass. Even though the doctors had declared him out of danger, they had asked for him to remain in complete rest for a couple of days. _

"_But he's back and you really should go home." I felt Catherine squeeze my hand._

"_To what, another fight with Tina?"_ _I mutter bitterly._

"_You want to talk about it?"_

_I sigh and look into her wonderful eyes. They make me want to bare my soul and offer it to her. "I don't think this thing with Tina is working, Cath."_

"_This thing is called marriage, Warrick." She spoke a little too harshly._

"_Yeah, sorry… I meant my marriage with Tina. When I saw her at the casino, I thought she was having an affair. It was almost as if I wanted her to have an affair, any reason to convince me that she is wrong for me."_

"_Have you guys considered a therapist?"_

"_Therapists help in mending the marriage."_

_She gave me a sharp look. "Are you saying you want a divorce from her?"_

"_I just know that I feel as if I was a little too impulsive in marrying her."_

"_That may be the case, but don't you think you owe it to her to give it a try?"_

_I swallowed a lump. "And what about us?" _

_"There is no us." She told me firmly. "We are great friends. We could have been more, but we didn't. We had a chance and we lost it. We can't live in could-haves any longer." _

_"So, you are over us?" I couldn't help feeling disappointed. _

_"I have no right to still like you, War. I'll never be able to live with myself if I'm the one who wrecks your marriage." _

_I knew she was right. My own conscience had told me the same thing. But I was a risk-taker, someone who throws away reason at the face of instincts. _

_"If you don't make an effort with Tina, you'll have to live with the fact that you were too casual with your marriage." She had on a far-away look. "I'm probably the last person who should be giving marital advices, but God knows, I tried with Eddie. I did everything in my power to stop our family from breaking. However, Eddie was Eddie and he failed to be a good husband. At the very least, I have the satisfaction that I didn't let off that easily. Trust me, you treat one commitment carelessly, and it haunts you for the rest of your life." _

_"So, you mean you'll never take that step again?" I asked. It gave me a shameful relief to think that, if not me, Catherine will never grow special with anyone else. _

_"There was a time that romance, great sex and charm worked wonders on me. But now I am a mother and the person I'm with, needs to understand that. The person will have to accept me, along with Lindsay, my past, my imperfections and my crazy job. At this juncture in my life, I can't compromise myself to anyone. I can't take a risk with my daughter. I need to know that if I love someone, they are a good parent, a good friend and overall a good person." _

_"Someone you can rely on." I added sadly. I was reliable, but not in relationships and we both knew that. _

_"It's going to be easy for me to be attracted to someone, but next to impossible for me to fall in love. And I'm not going to take that huge step unless I love the person." Catherine exhaled. "But I'm satisfied with the way things are. What I want in my future partner are rare qualities. If it comes true, it will be like coming home after a gruesome and difficult case and finding him waiting for me, holding my hand, sensing my exhaustion and asking me…" _

_"Coffee?" Sara chirped, walking in with two steaming cups of the beverage "They have been freshly brewed and they taste almost like one of Greg's potpourri." She stopped when she saw the blank look Catherine shot her and then she looked at me. _

_"What's wrong?" She asked, frowning. "Did I interrupt something?" _

_Laughter spilled out of me. Seeing me, Catherine began to smile. This made Sara even more confused. _

_"Clue me in on the joke, please?" _

_"Long story, Sara." I chortled as I accepted the cup from her. Catherine glanced away, embarrassed. _

_---- _

I stepped up to the podium. I could see Tina from here and sense her silent support. She hadn't known Catherine personally but she knew all about her. Catherine had directed me towards the right path years ago and for that I will be eternally grateful. We both will.

"I'm Warrick Brown." I speak out. "Catherine was my friend, a colleague and someone I could trust with my life." My voice caught. "She will always be remembered…"

* * *


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

**Chapter Twenty Two**

The sanctuary had a peaceful hush over it when Grissom and Sara pulled over. Grissom jumped out but was puzzled to find that Sara hadn't done the same. He walked over to her SUV and found her sitting still in the driver's seat.

He tapped the window. She pulled it down.

"Sara?" He searched her face. "Aren't you coming in?"

She didn't say anything but unlocked the passenger seat door. He took it that she was inviting him in. Frowning at the reason, Grissom walked to the other side and got in.

"What's wrong?" He asked her, when he was comfortably seated.

"I want to tell you about Courtney Andrews."

Grissom arched his eyebrows, not expecting to hear this. "Okay."

"Buckle up, we are going for a drive." She wasn't looking at him. Her gaze was fixed in front. She was in one of those moods when she cannot be argued with. He shot the sanctuary a brief glance before locking his seat belts in place.

She drove for a while, during which Grissom flicked her surreptitious looks. Finally, when they were zipping down a quiet residential area, Sara spoke, "I knew Rachel from one of my foster homes. She was in that same care."

"Rachel?"

"Courtney's real name." With one hand on the steering wheel, Sara used the other to nervously run through her hair. "We didn't get along at first, but she was the one who introduced me to a whole new experience; drugs, alcohol, clubs, the rock scene, you name it. When I got a scholarship to Harvard, we temporarily broke contact. After I graduated and moved to San Francisco, I found her again and we renewed our friendship. But by then, she had gotten herself into a nasty drug habit, an abusive relationship and a year old kid. I tried to get her to leave her boyfriend and clean up. But with Rach, it was an uphill task. She said she found some rich lawyer who loves her and she wanted to move to Boston with him. I warned her, but Rach never listens."

Grissom didn't say anything. He leant back against the leather upholstery and listened to her, keeping a careful eye on her driving.

"Anyways…" Sara swerved the vehicle to a right turn. "Then I came to Vegas and forgot all about her. Until a year back." She bit her upper lip. "I got a call from Rach. She said she wanted to meet me; there was something important. You remember the time I took a two week leave?"

He nodded.

"Well, I went to see her." Her jaws clenched. "She was in a condition worse than I've ever seen before. She said she was on a run. She had married some gangbanger in New York and she saw him die. She was scared that the murderers saw her too and they were going to find her and kill her. Rachel had no money, just the dirty pair of clothes she was wearing and a hungry son. In California, she has a bad rep and there was no way anyone was going to give her a job mopping tables, leave alone a credit on an apartment. No job, no food, a bad drug withdrawal, Gris, you should have seen her, she had become a skeleton of her former self."

He saw her body shudder, but he couldn't think of a way to comfort her. He instead sat mutely, waiting for her to continue.

"I knew I could give her some money, maybe even buy her an apartment, but it wouldn't help. She'll use up the money to buy drugs and just slip back into her former lifestyle. She'll get another jerk who'll fuck her and then beat her. At that point, I would have left her to her own devices if it hadn't been for Kyle. She needed to clean up her act for her son and there was only one way for her to do it. Someone had to keep an eye on her and she needed to be tied down by responsibilities. So, the first thing we did was change her and Kyle's name. They became Courtney and John Andrews. And then, by California's law, we were registered as domestic partners."

"You figured, if she was legally in a union with you, you will be able to keep tabs on her. Anything she does can be reported back to you." Grissom nodded his understanding.

"That and more." Sara eased the SUV into the driveway of a diner. When the engines stopped moving, a somber silence impregnated the interior. She finally turned to look at him.

"I got her an apartment in our name. I had some contacts and they gave her a job. If anyone from New York was searching for her, they'll be looking for a doped up, single mother, probably somewhere on the streets. Rachel was settled down and had a decent place to live. I got her into rehab and asked them to inform me about her sessions. I wanted to make sure she's going. Kyle was attending a nearby school. He's a bright kid, real bright." She gave a sad smile. "I didn't want his mom's bad choices to affect his future."

"And Catherine knew all this?"

Sara nodded. "We discussed. I told her everything about Rachel. However, when we decided to get married, I knew I had to dissolve my partnership with Rachel… Courtney. She was doing great, anyways and there was no reason for me to continue monitoring her. So, I went up to Frisco and signed the papers and handed it to her."

"And you are sure she registered those papers?" Grissom met her eyes.

"I don't see why she won't." Sara shrugged. "I mean she was happy and it wasn't as if our partnership meant anything other than legalities. Once the marriage was over, I was going to sign off my ownership andtransfer the apartment in Kyle's name."

"Did you know she was in Vegas?"

"No, I had no idea. She never told me she was coming."

"And what about John… Kyle?"

"I called his school; he's on a camping trip. He probably doesn't know about his mom and he doesn't need to know so soon." Sara's breath came out hard and shallow.

"Why didn't you tell the police?"

"Because… what we did was illegal. For the world, Rachel had disappeared, not officially changed her name to Courtney. She told me that there were some on the police force who were in cahoots with the Mafia. She didn't want them involved. She was so scared and I agreed. We got her a stolen identity and… that was it. No one was the wiser. "

"You agreed to break the law?" Grissom asked incredulously.

"Gris, I had no other choice. Rach was at the point of breaking and Kyle would have died of an infection. She was afraid of notifying anyone from the authority and I was scared that if I pressed her, she'll run away."

"Sara." He sighed, exasperatedly. "There were other ways to do the same thing."

"I knew you won't understand." She mumbled.

He closed his eyes and controlled himself. He changed the topic. "You think she was the target?"

"Can you think of any other reason?" Sara crossed her arms. "Catherine was in the law enforcement, but she didn't have any more enemies than we did. The other victims were just normal citizens, gone there for shopping."

"Besides the explosives were bought in Courtney's name." He frowned. "In your credit card."

"I must have left it there."

Grissom could see that she didn't believe in that statement anymore than he did. But if indeed Courtney was intended to be the original target and Catherine and the others were just an unfortunate coincidence, they had a big problem. Handling the Mafia is never easy, especially since they are so clean in their hit. The LVPD would have to collaborate with New York and the bureaucratic nightmare is going to stall the investigation for some time.

"Can I return back to work?" She asked, after they both returned from their thoughts.

He shook his head. "Take some rest, Sara." Before she could protest, he continued. "Not because I'm afraid of what Ecklie or the Sheriff are going to do, but because I know you need it."

"I can't." She gulped. "If I spend any more time thinking and grieving, I'll go crazy. I need my work, Gris."

"I have paperwork."

Even though she knew he meant it as a joke, she nodded. "I'll take it."

He observed her quietly for a minute and then: "I was scheduled for a seminar next month. But I neither have the spirit nor the time to work on it."

"You want me to help you?"

"It's off record and it will keep you occupied." He said.

She turned on the ignition. She knew that being allowed to return to the lab was improbable, but she gave the shot anyways. However, what she didn't tell Grissom, what neither he nor anyone needed to know, was that she was going to do a little investigation of her own. And she knew just the right people to talk to. Logical or not, she didn't think Catherine and Rachel had been victims of a gang hit.

* * *

Sean grunted in disgust as he stepped on a piece of soggy newspaper. He brushed the lapels of his coat for the umpteenth time and carefully walked towards the cabin. He hated coming down here, mainly because he was afraid someone might see him and also because he hated breathing in the dust. He didn't knock but retrieved a key from his pockets and opened the door. He grimaced when he saw the main living room littered with empty beer bottles. His sharp eyes could make out the pizza stains on the carpet. But what angered him was the TV turned on to full volume. Rocky was lounging bare-chested, watching an old Bruce Lee movie. 

Sean wordlessly strode up to the unit and shut it off.

"Hey!" Rocky complained, sitting up. "It was just getting good."

"Yeah, and I suppose you want the neighbors calling the cops because you were causing noise pollution." Sean snapped.

"Whatever, I'm bored doing shit out here. I need solid action, man."

"You listen to me." Sean poked the muscled arm fully covered with tattoos. "I'm paying you and you do as I say. If you need action, get your ass outta here."

"Hey Sean." Kristen purred, emerging from inside.

Sean hardly softened at the seductive glance she threw his way. "What was the Goddamn emergency?"

She immediately mirrored his seriousness. "You need to see this."

They walked into the video room, originally a study. As he had instructed, the curtains were down and the lights inside were dimmed. The wall was layered with small screens showing different angles of the basement. In three of them, he could see Catherine curled up in a fetal position on the bed.

"What am I looking for?" He asked after a while.

"She's sleeping." Rocky murmured redundantly.

"Exactly, she should not be sleeping." Kristen pointed out.

"What do you mean?" Sean stared towards her.

"She had just spent a good twenty minutes watching the news. These babies capture everything perfect. I could see what she was watching. It was the Channel 7 news with King. Some guy had even made things cute for us by taking a snapshot of your sister getting cozy with another man. That picture's splayed all over. And of course, the routine stuff about the bomb blast and her involvement was being recited."

"So?"

"So, this lady shouldn't be sleeping after seeing all that."

"Hmm." Sean understood what she meant. If Catherine Willows had just witnessed the news of her cataclysmic death and the alleged betrayal by her fiancée, she should have exploded in melodrama, not calmly lying down in bed. "Maybe she's feeling the effects of the drugs."

"Yeah, if she would have eaten something. The last meal she had was yesterday. She hadn't touched the pizza we sent. She could be feeling sick, but not enough to not feel anything."

He scowled. "What is that beside her?"

"Where?"

"There." He pointed at the screen giving a direct, vertical image of the bed.

"I dunno, a black cloth?" Rocky squinted.

"No, we never gave her any dark clothes. The lighter the clothes, the better we can see her on camera."

Three pairs of eyes were focused on the dark spot beside Catherine, until it struck them.

"Fuck, it's blood! The bitch is bleeding. Just our luck that we got her during those days." Rocky muttered, his nose scrunched up in distaste.

"No, it can't be." Kristen shook her head. "I've stocked the bathroom with enough tampons."

"Then what is it?" Sean mumbled. He didn't want to admit that a cold feeling of unease was taking residence in his stomach.

"Maybe her stitches are torn and she's bleeding."

"Can't you see her bandaged hand? It's perfectly fine."

Rocky turned to glare at Kristen. "So, if you are the almighty doctor, then why don't you enlighten us?"

Her eyes widened and she sputtered out, "A shaving kit. There was a shaving kit in the bathroom closet."

She had barely registered the sharp sting on her cheek when she toppled backwards. Sean was fuming and he advanced to slap her again.

"Hey easy, easy." Rocky stepped between them.

"You fucking bitch!" Sean cursed. "Didn't I tell you NOT to leave any sharp objects in there?"

"I-I thought…" She started.

"You weren't thinking!"

"Uh, guys?" Rocky hated to go against a very angry Sean but this was needed. "The blood… it's getting more."

Sean and Kristen reluctantly tore their eyes from each other to look at the screen. Sure enough, the dark pool of blood they saw was getting larger. Catherine was bleeding, a lot.

"You!" He pointed his finger at Kristen without looking at her. "Go and attend to her."

She scrambled on her feet as fast as possible and rushed towards the basement stairs. After a brief while, they saw her form fill the screen and walk towards Catherine. She gently pushed her and then harder. She then grabbed the woman by the shoulders and straightened her. Catherine fell limply into her hands and they saw Kristen double back. Rocky gasped. The front of the nightgown Catherine wore was completely stained. A dark, viscous fluid, dripped from her right hand. Kristen almost dropped her and ran away. Within seconds, she returned back to the video room.

"We need to take her to the hospital." She spoke, in between breaths.

"You have had medical training, why don't you see to her?" Sean was curt.

"I don't have medical training! I'm just a pre-med and besides, I don't have the necessary tools. She needs to be taken to the hospital."

Rocky took several steps away from his boss. He had never seen the man so angry before and he was afraid of what he might do.

Sean was desperately trying to think. He didn't care what happened to Willows, but someone did. His plan depended on that someone's continued support and he couldn't afford to make an enemy out of that person.

After some intense planning, he slowly worded. "We'll take her to the hospital and get a doctor. I have a fake driver's license, so we can hide her identity. Make sure not a lot of people get to see her, though. They showed her picture on the news only once, but some people have damn good memories. If anyone recognizes her…" He turned towards Rocky. "You know what to do."

* * *


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

**So, this is the second installment of the "homage chapters". There are some very mild spoilers from _Grave Danger_ and _Spellbound_. Thank you for all the reviews. Please continue, thanks :)**

**Chapter Twenty Three**

"There is darkness everywhere

Yet your voice told me to go

Inspired and grateful was I

And now what's left but an echo"

I can hear Warrick's grief-stricken voice as he speaks in memory of Catherine. I know, and everyone present here knows, that no words can ever respectfully or wholly do justice to the deceased. But these memorials are more for our benefit than for the ones who have passed away. It is a faint comfort to our bruised selves. It is also a firm stone we erect in our minds to show that our beloved has left us and it is time we moved on.

Sofia had told us the reason why Grissom and Sara weren't present with us. The coward in me was thankful that Sara wasn't here. I didn't think I would be able to stand here beside Sara, knowing that my friend's heart is shattering into million pieces.

And Catherine…

There have been so many times, more than I would like, that I have been foolish during an investigation. I wasn't Grissom and neither could I follow his dictates. I got close to the victims, sometimes very close. I felt for them as badly as I would if they weren't strangers. Plus, there was this overgrown boy in me that liked attention. Be it after Kristie's murder or when I had accidentally spilled the case details to the media, Catherine had always shouldered my burden. If Grissom was my teacher, she was the guidance counselor. She knew what it felt like to become personal with the cases and therefore we were kindred in that sense.

But no dread had so much as matched the one I felt when I was trapped underneath the ground. For many days after my release, I still couldn't believe I was alive.

---

_It was my first day back to the Crime Lab. Yeah, getting bitten by fire ants doesn't exactly count as a sickness, but I can assure you that being buried alive is as close to mind-numbing trauma as you can ever get. I did get through it, except for the occasional nightmares. But I think what helped me most was knowing how all my colleagues had been there for me. They cared for me and hadn't abandoned hope. That knowledge alone motivated me to return back to work. _

_The first person I saw was Sara. Sara, being Sara, was probably pulling her usual overtimes. I once tried to fix her up with a friend of mine, exactly the kind of guy you would like to introduce to your parents, but she had refused. Later I learnt that it was because she had a thing for Grissom. With all due respect to Grissom, I can't understand what made that woman so crazy about him. _

_I didn't disturb her studious concentration and went straight into the break room. I saw the woman I just wanted to see._

"_Hey Cath."_

_She instantly leapt to her feet on seeing me and greeted me with a wide smile and a warm hug._

"_Nicky, it's so nice to see you."_

"_It's nice to be back." I murmured. She pulled away and looked worriedly at me._

"_What's up with your voice?"_

"_Oh, it's a little hoarse. Probably a cold." I lied._

"_You sure?"_ _Her eyes were scanning mine._

"_Positive, Cath." I led her to the chair and made her sit down. I didn't need another lecture of how I should take some more rest. I had enough of that from my family._

"_You should get a vacation. The seaside, maybe?"_

"_Nope, no vacation._ _I want to be here, solving cases." I gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm fine, honest."_

_She didn't look entirely convinced, but thankfully she didn't press on further._

"_There was something I had to talk to you about." I looked at her._

"_Yeah?"_

"_I wanted to thank you. I heard you had Sam lend you the money for my release. I know it must have been hard on you, asking him."_

"_Well, I figured it was time I pinched a little from my inheritance." She joked._

"_Cath."_

_She sighed. "Asking him money wasn't easy. But there was no other way, Nick. And he wasn't doing a favor for you, he probably wasn't even doing it for me, so you don't ever have to feel indebted towards him. As for me, I have to live with the fact that I'm his daughter, whether or not I like it. My self respect will never allow me to ask anything for myself. But when it comes to my friends and family, if he's the only person I can go to, I won't let my self respect come in between."_

"_But, Catherine… no one else would have done it for me." I felt tears dangerously close to falling, so I looked away. I still held the old-fashioned idea that men shouldn't cry. "Hell, even the police department I work for didn't raise the money for me. I don't blame them; I know their policy. But…"_

"_We were all equally concerned about you." She softly interrupted. "I just had access to the money."_

"_I never realized you guys cared for me. I always thought, I was just another CSI." I forced a sheepish smile._

"_You are a part of the CSI." I look up to see her grin. "Chummy Society of Investigators."_

_---_

Being in services such as these makes me unsettled. I cannot push away the feeling that I had once come this close to dying. If my team members had been only a few minutes late, I would have pulled the trigger ending my own life. Then, people would have come to attend and pay their last respects to Nicholas Stokes. Trapped in the confines of Death itself, I hadn't experienced the "better place" they talk about. If there ever is Hell, I had breathed in its fiery air.

I can only pray for Catherine to be in a better place.

* * *

"The clown jests

But masks his tears with paint

The ceremony speaks beauty

And yet cannot hide death's taint"

People think Greg Sanders is never serious. In a way, they are correct. It's not that I don't take any situation seriously; it's just that I prefer to laugh my way through it. But standing here, among strangers all dressed in black and knowing that the graveness on their faces are a reflection of mine own, I have lost my ability to humor.

Lindsay is just in front of me. Her gorgeous, blonde hair that glows like freshly cultivated corn, contrasts sharply with the black dress she is wearing. No child should be here, no child should have to see this. I cannot even begin to imagine what she's going through. Even though my parents died when I was too young, I had no memory of them and I had always known my Papa and Nana Olaf as my parents. But I do understand the helplessness of not having your own parents with you. Even though you are surrounded by all the love in the world, that void can never be filled. Lindsay has Sara, her grandparents, her aunt and us, but Catherine is someone she can never replace.

When I was a lab tech, I handled dead people's samples all the time, but I was never compelled to put a face to it. However, as soon as I started going out in the field, I began experiencing what it felt like to look into a dead person's eyes and knowing that they'll never see life again. For me the dead wasn't dead, but a mere shedding of the mortal skin to advance to the next stage. I never told anyone that when on a crime scene, I'm usually struck by an eerie vacuum. It's not the feeling of death, but it's the sensation of being in a room where a live soul had just been sucked away. People will just laugh at me. They won't understand. I had Norse blood in me. My Nana Olaf was a psychic and her foremothers before her were all expert practitioners of the occult. And despite myself, I believe in some of the pagan art.

And that very intuition has been tingling inside me for a couple of days. It's as if I can feel Catherine's presence. It's as if she hasn't entirely left the material world yet. I know you will think that I'm talking about souls. No, I don't mean any spiritual existence but the real person.

And out of nowhere a thought, both shocking and embarrassing, struck me:

_What if Catherine isn't dead?

* * *

_

I'm Captain James Brass and I have no poetic way of expressing myself. Most of the times, the only thing that does come out of my mouth is sarcasm. I wasn't born a cynic, the police job made me into one. I've seen bad people do bad things and I've also seen bad people who get away with bad things. And then there are the good people who have the best of intentions, but one stupid mistake ruins their lives. In my line of work, I've watched all kinds of victims; teenagers, elderly, prostitutes, pimps, dealers, middleclass workers, single mothers, babies and… even police officers. I have learnt to treat it as a job and the victims, as a piece of paper to be studied. If I didn't do that, I'll never be able to sleep again.

I'm not even inside the House of God. I and God have not been on speaking terms for quite a while now. And solving every case reinforces my belief that either God doesn't exist or He is too self-preoccupied to care for ordinary mortals. I have come this far only for Catherine, but I refuse to step inside and give God the satisfaction that I have forgiven Him. I haven't and after what happened to Catherine, I never will.

Catherine was special. She wasn't a friend like Grissom was. I didn't treat her like a kid the way I did with Sara. And yet she was special. But despite that, I'm callous enough to say that I'll get over her death. Her loss will be felt, but I'll move on. I'll _have_ to move on.

What I will find unbearable, though, is the loss I will sense in the others. Walking away from the past is easy for me; I've done it countless times. Living with a sordid present is difficult. Coming to work everyday and seeing the sorrow on everyone's faces will remind me of Catherine and the fact that she'll never come back.

Sara had asked me to be her "father" on her marriage. Will I ever be able to look in those eyes again? What comfort can I offer the heart that has felt a grief like hers?

I look at Catherine's picture amongst those of the other victims. No, no one can forget her. As long as we work there, her absence will always be felt. She will always be missed.

* * *


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

**Chapter Twenty Four**

She was a blood spatter specialist. To know how blood exits a stab wound, she needed to know the major blood vessels in the human body. She knows which ones, if punctured, will lead straight to death. There are some, which can be damaged, but they'll keep the person alive long enough for the ER. Then there are those that rupture inside the body and leave one with an internal hemorrhage. Some vessels are not essentially important, but will gush out enough blood to make an onlooker panic. That's the one she sliced. However, she knew she wasn't invincible and there was only a sliver of timespan before the blood loss itself could prove fatal for her. She took the risk based on the assumption that her captors will do anything to save her. Her life depended on that assumption and she didn't even want to consider the possibility that she might be wrong.

However, the blood loss did make her woozy. She saw the ski masks on her captors' faces through a series of intermittent headaches. She recognized the sign board of a private clinic when the Explorer stopped. One of her tall captors stayed behind the wheel while the two other peeled off their masks and carried her inside the clinic. She recognized the woman from the first time and the other guy was the kind of punk she usually encountered during cases. Nurses came rushing towards her and she heard them refusing to handle her. Then she saw the guy deposit a wad of crisp green notes in her hand. Almost immediately, she was transported on top of the gurney and wheeled towards the corridors. The guy stayed behind while the woman accompanied her. Catherine hadn't expected to be unchaperoned.

Her keen eyes roved round, taking in all the possible exits. She saw few security guards, but they had the bored look of those who hadn't been in action for quite a while. There were the customary fire exits, all abandoned. Her gurney slid into a rather large ward. A young Black woman instantly joined her. Her name tag read, 'Dr. Greta Mkibo'. She expertly ordered the nurses, while slowly removing the flimsy bandages that kept the bleeding in check. She looked at the lacerations and frowned but she didn't ask how Catherine received the injuries.

"Is there anything to worry about?" Kristen looked worriedly at the extent of damage.

Dr. Mkibo briefly glanced into her patient's eyes before replying, "There has been significant blood loss. I think you may have just been in time."

Catherine gave an inaudible sigh of relief. She didn't know whether she had succeeded in wordless communication or it was a stroke of pure luck. She surely didn't want her captor to know that she had rather cleverly wounded herself.

"Well, how long will this take?"

"As long as it takes." Dr. Mkibo didn't look up. "You can wait outside."

"No, thanks, I'm fine here."

"As you wish."

Catherine felt the coolness of alcohol on her skin. She closed her eyes and observed her surroundings through the slits. Apart from the rhythmic beeping of her vitals and the scrub-clad staff, there was nothing else to indicate that this was a medical facility. The room was painted in a pale cream which reflected the sunny rays from outside. Curtains were of an old-fashioned floral print and the furniture was of beige plywood. She curved her neck a bit, but enough for her to get a good look at her escort. The woman was standing stoically, trying her best to not let her anxiety seep out. She was quite a beauty, the kind that didn't require hours in a salon or in front of the mirror.

Catherine hadn't really come up with a plan. The TV news had spiked her into impulsive action. She barely remembered walking up to the bathroom, getting the blade, curling herself on the bed and then beginning her rather meticulous self-infliction. What she did remember vividly were the news replaying over and over in her head. If the images of the exploded parking lot weren't horrific enough, getting to know that she had apparently been killed in it stunned her to immobility. Then came the blows, one after the other, each more painful than before. Sara, her Sara, her one and only beloved Sara, was accused to be the one involved. In typical media drama, her Sara's reputation was being ripped, stomped and tarnished. They had live feed from the memorial and Sara's absence was probably the most talked about thing. And then came the final picture that would make eager audiences forget their daily doses of afternoon soaps. Grissom and Sara were locked in embrace. "Now we know why Sara Sidle was absent from her fiancée's memorial", a smug reporter announced.

"That should do." Dr. Mkibo patted her arm gently. She faintly flicked her eyelashes to indicate that she was awake before shutting them tight.

"What's happening to her?" Kristen leant forward.

"The blood loss… must have rendered her unconscious. Nothing to worry about."

"I'd like to take her home now."

Dr. Mkibo hesitated. "I don't think that will be advisable, seeing the injuries she had suffered. We should keep her here for a few hours, for monitoring."

"We can do that at home. Just give me the instructions." Kristen said vehemently.

"Ma'am." Mkibo gently took her by the elbow and ushered her to a corner of the room. She then lowered her voice conspiratorially. "I very well know how she had come to get those wounds, but unlike the doctors from big hospitals who are bound by ethics, I have no need to be intrusive. For the moment, I have tended to her wounds. However, being devoid of blood can do funny things to the body."

"You don't think you can fool me. I'm a science student." The young woman voiced.

"Well, then what I'll say should make complete sense to you." Mkibo didn't skip a beat. "The receptionists outside, they are neither stupid nor uneducated. Our clinic wants profit but we do ensure that we don't fall into trouble. Your friend here," She gestured towards Catherine. "Has tried to commit suicide. That does, indeed have legal ramifications. We are all ready to overlook it, but if you discharge her a little too early, there is no saying what might happen to her. Who knows, her condition might even be beyond the scope of our little clinic. And that's a case neither you nor I desire. So for both our sakes, what is an hour?"

Kristen shifted uncertainly. She was in a huge predicament and she didn't want to take upon the burden of the decision. "I'll have to call my… her husband. He will know what to do."

"By all means. You can use a phone outside."

Kristen once again looked at Catherine. Apparently assured that the woman had dozed off, she sauntered out.

"How's she?" Sean questioned as soon as he got the call.

"She's fine, for now."

"What do you mean, for now?"

"The doctor says she needs to be kept for an hour of observation." Kristen was sweating nervously.

"And where are you right now?"

"I'm outside the ward."

"And I hope she's alone inside." Sean's voice had an edge to it.

"Well, not really…" Kristen gulped. "She's unconscious, so she won't be ratting anytime soon."

"Get in and don't you dare leave her side again."

"But…"

"Stop arguing and go in."

She swore under her breath as she returned her cellphone to her jacket. What had started as an excellent opportunity to pay through her medical school fees and a luxurious Caribbean cruise wasn't going as smoothly as she had hoped. She hadn't wanted to resort to anything more illegal than keeping a woman against her wishes. She hurried inside the ward. To her relief, Catherine was still asleep and the doctor was checking the woman's pulse.

"You'll be here, I assume." Dr. Mkibo remarked.

"Yes, her husband wishes for me to keep an eye on her." Kristen smiled thinly. "I'm sure you understand why."

Mkibo rubbed the wrist. "Of course. You can make yourself comfortable while I go and attend to some of my other patients."

* * *

Sara needed to retrace Rachel's steps before she came to Vegas. She went into her apartment and connected her old laptop to the internet connection. She checked into Rachel's credit history, called the rehab and the workplace. She calculated that Rachel had left San Francisco about a week before the explosion. That gave her ample time to contact Sara. Why she didn't was a perplexing mystery. 

Sara called few of her friends in Frisco; friends that she shared with Rachel and who knew about the woman's troubles; friends that the CSIs were not likely to find unless with some deep investigation. They all chimed the same comment that they hadn't seen nor heard from Rachel since the last time that Sara had been there. She had another impending worry. Kyle was to come home the next day and someone needed to be there to tell him. While she was doing all this, she had called her travel agent for the quickest flight to San Francisco. She didn't really know what she could discover about Rachel, but she needed answers. Sara hadn't probed much into Rachel's history, but maybe it was time she did.

* * *

Dr. Mkibo walked nonchalantly to the nearest staircase. She gave her approaching staff as polite a smile as possible so as not to appear suspicious. She opened the heavy metal door and, with one quick glance behind her, she closed it. She fished out her cellphone and dialed the number that she had just memorized, hoping that she hadn't forgotten or misplaced any digit. She heard the rings on the other end, keeping one eye towards the door. After five rings, she heard a click and then a deep feminine voice. 

"You have reached the voicemail of Sara Sidle. Unfortunately, I'm not available to answer your call, so please leave a message and I'll get back to you."

Dr. Mkibo felt her throat dry, not sure of what she should be saying. Then she took a deep breath and started, "This is Dr. Mkibo from the _We Care Medical Clinic_. There is a patient here that… aagh!" She spun around just as a hand snatched her phone away. She had just begun to register the masked face in front of her when she was pushed against the wall. She saw her attacker drop her cellphone and crush it beneath his shoes. Her mouth opened involuntarily, pushing a sound from it. A leather glove clamped against her face, choking whatever she was about to scream.

"Think _very_ carefully before doing anything, doctor." A male voice rasped. "You may want to be heroic, against all wishes for survival. But I believe there is a small girl waiting for you at school; May is it?" Mkibo's eyes widened at the mention of her daughter's name. "And a husband who's in his 18th floor office right now, oblivious to how easily a bullet can penetrate him."

Mkibo struggled and she gasped muffled shouts against the hand holding her.

"Shh." The man brought his face closer so that she could almost feel his breath filtered by the cotton fabric. "Now listen to me. You are to accompany the patient and her friend to a black Explorer parked outside. If anybody asks, just tell them that you will be gone a while. You are not to make any other communication with any of your staff. You will stay with us, as an honored guest, for as long as we deem necessary. You will do this. You will do this for your beloved husband and your lovely daughter, won't you?" His fingers dug into her skin. "Won't you?"

She nodded. Almost instantly, he let her go. She almost slumped but gathered her strength at the last minute. Without another word, the man picked up the damaged phone parts and slid down the stairway. She assured herself that he was well out of sight before making a move back towards the main corridors. She smoothed the creases out of her pants and tried to walk as confidently as possible. She could only hope no one noticed the slight wobble in her knees. There was no telling what would happen if someone sensed something was wrong and called 911. He might kill her family. She didn't even have her cellphone nor the time to go to the public phone to assure herself that both her husband and May were alright.

When she reentered the ward, she could sense her patient's eager gaze on her. With the little time that they had while Kristen was away, the woman had given her a number to call. Ever intuitive, Mkibo had intuited that this was more than a mere suicide case and she had been eager to help. Now she felt helpless.

"Let's go." Kristen's eyes were cold. She had, no doubt, received orders from the man who had attacked Mkibo earlier. The doctor could only nod weakly and began to page one of the nurses when she thought better of it. There was no need to involve someone else in this peril. She detached Catherine from the machines and the IV tubes. Then, with the help of Kristen, she carried the woman onto the gurney. They wheeled it to the main lobby as casually as possible. Rocky was outside, smoking, but he quickly ended it when he saw them coming. His partner ignored his questioning eyebrow as she motioned for him to help with the gurney. She stayed within hearing distance of Mkibo as the doctor outlined to her staff that she'll be with her patient after which she will be gone for a while. Her calm voice belied any of the tensed fear she was feeling. If the staff felt that it was out of the ordinary for Mkibo to leave in the middle of shift, they didn't say anything.

She was so absorbed in keeping her façade as composed as possible that she became temporarily unaware of her surroundings. She turned around in a hurry and began to walk when she collided squarely against a man.

"Hey… hey…" Greta looked up to see the smiling face of a paramedic.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled. She could see Kristen giving her a warning look.

"Greta?" The paramedic's smile faded as he watched her dash towards the doors. "Greta!" He called out again.

She reluctantly paused, turned her head towards him and forced a chirpy, "Call me later, Hank."

Hank Peddigrew's boyish features were marred with a scowl that transformed into full-fledged shock when he recognized the woman on the gurney.

* * *

**Thank you all for the R&Rs. We all know who Hank Peddigrew is, I suppose. If you don't or forgot, do watch _Crash and Burn_, THE Catherine/Sara episode. **


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

**Chapter Twenty Five**

Lady Heather daintily poured herself a cup of tea. She took in a moment to enjoy the aroma of freshly crushed Assam leaves. She had never been a fan of the packaged variety; those were too artificial. In the background, she could hear the TV with the breakfast show hosts pouring over some new yoga exercises. She had tuned in to watch the news. The Boulevard and its explosion bore testimony to how short people's attention span was. A little more than a week after the terrible tragedy and another news had already kicked it off the popular spot. Some Hollywood actor was reportedly having an affair with his twenty five year senior mother-in-law.

She had barely bitten into her first margarine-buttered toast when she heard someone at the door; the gong-like sound echoed off her high ceiling.

She opened the door to reveal a woman, about her age, dressed in a conservative pant suit. "Lady Heather?"

"Kayla." Lady Heather's eyes automatically skimmed beyond to the streets and then returned to rest on the woman. "What are you doing here?"

"It's my sister…" Kayla looked distraught. "She's missing."

Lady Heather touched her shoulder and gestured for her to come in. She didn't settle her in the living room but instead took her to her terrace. She could have taken her to a cellar for all the difference it made to Kayla's countenance.

"Tea? Something to eat?" Lady Heather offered. Kayla shook her head.

"Alright tell me everything."

"Joyce and I were supposed to… go on a vacation together. You know, a little time off. But for the last few days, she hadn't been answering her calls. Then I went over to her apartment and found it empty. I called her employer, she works at the casino, but he said she hasn't reported for work in two weeks." Kayla took out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "She was just… gone."

"Do you know if she had any friends? Lovers?"

"Well, she sees some guys from time to time, but as far as I know, it's nothing serious."

"Couldn't it be possible that she has taken a holiday with one of these men?"

"No!" Kayla said forcefully. "We were close; she would have told me if she was going away."

Lady Heather silently pondered and then asked, "Why didn't you file a missing persons report with the police?"

"I can't. Joyce is wanted for drug possession in Texas. She ran away from there and came to me."

"Ah."

"Lady Heather, you must help me." She pleaded. "I have no one to turn to. You have all the right contacts; you can know what happened to her."

"Kayla, I've retired from the business. As such, I have disengaged myself from my so-called contacts."

"But I'm sure if you ask them, they'll listen to you." The woman almost dropped to her knees. "People have a lot of respect for you, Lady Heather."

Lady Heather quelled the urge to scoff at that. She considered respect to be too positive a word to be associated with what people felt for her. Intimidation maybe, perhaps fear, definitely lust, but not respect.

"You will help me, won't you?"

She gave a small sigh. She had never been good at overriding her sympathy. That was why her former business had been a refuge for many the destitute, abused and addicted.

"I'll see what I can do. Do you have a picture of your sister?"

Kayla nodded eagerly and took out a snapshot tucked safely inside a paperback. She handed it to Lady Heather, her eyes brimming with hope.

Little surprises Heather anymore, she has seen and done so much in life. But the smiling woman in the photo almost took her breath away. The woman looked maybe a year or two older than her sister. Her blonde hair had the sheen of regular salon treatment. Her face was pale but not the kind that comes from ill health or staying indoors. Eyes were of the color of the sky, in which reflected the kisses of sunshine. Joyce was indeed a beautiful woman, well maintained for her age and still holding the grace of youth. But that wasn't what had surprised her.

What surprised her was how closely Joyce resembled Catherine Willows.

It took a while for Lady Heather to be able to find her voice. When she did, it was filled with urgency. "Kayla, the police needs to know."

"No! No police!" Kayla was livid.

"Listen to me. I have a feeling this is very serious." The sister's eyes widened in fright. "I know someone within the police ranks who can help you."

"A contact?"

"A… friend."

"But what if they arrest Joyce?"

Lady Heather pursed her lips. "I don't think that will happen." She didn't want to add that she had the feeling something had happened to Joyce.

* * *

Sara had to shield her eyes from the direct noon rays despite her dark shades. She quickly looked beside her. A boy, lanky and tall for his age, stood leaning against their luggage cart. His mousy brown hair, a liberal scattering of freckles on his nose and smudges on his cheek gave him an unruly look. He didn't complain when she took his hand and walked out of McCarran. 

"Do you want something to eat or do you wanna go home, Kyle?" Sara asked him, using his real name.

He shrugged and got in the cab, indicating that it didn't really matter. She sighed and directed the driver to her apartment.

During the ride home, Sara shot him long looks. His attention was focused on the scenery outside the window. When she had told him about Rachel, he hadn't shown any signs of grief. At first, she had wondered if he was just bottling his sorrow inside. Then it occurred to her that he was simply not that affected. Rachel had never proven to be a good mother. For Kyle, it was just one more aspect of the crime-infested life he had grown up in.

Her building used to be one of the city's posh highrises. Now it was just another crumbling remnant of Old Las Vegas architecture. However, its previous repute ensured that the residents were from decent middle class background. They were the kind of singles or couples who worked hard for a bright future, not having spare time to indulge in the destructive pleasures of the city. The driver helped her unload the bags, which weren't a lot. She had been able to fit all of Kyle's possessions in two worn-out duffels.

She loaded herself with the luggage and once again took Kyle's hands in one of her own. They silently proceeded inside the building. She kept a wary eye for his reaction, but if he was feeling scared, he had it well hidden. The elevator stopped at the fifth floor. Her apartment was at the east end. However, as soon as she stepped out into the corridor, she went almost static with shock.

"Sara!" Lindsay leapt up from the cross-legged sitting position and half-ran, half-walked towards her.

"Linds, what are you doing here?" Sara blinked, thinking for a minute that she was hallucinating.

"I came to find you but you weren't home."

"How long have you been sitting here?"

"I… dunno."

"Lindsay, does anyone know you are here?"

The girl hesitated and then shook her head. A gasp slipped out from Sara. "Are you saying that you ran away from your grandparents?"

"They won't allow me to visit you!" Lindsay whined. "They won't even allow me to call you. And you weren't there at the Chapel. I wanted to see you!"

"Linds…" Sara dropped to her knees. She gently reached out for the girl's frail shoulders and gave it a slight rub. "I- I wanted to be there, for you, for your… Mom. I…"

"I know, Sara." She stroked the dark hair. "I saw Nana and Sam ask you to leave."

Sara covered the soft hand with her own. "Are you angry with me, Linds?"

"For what they are saying on TV?"

She lowered her gaze. "Yes."

"You love Mommy and you'll never hurt her. She always used to say that not everything on TV is true. And, anyways, Mommy and I both hate that woman in the news. She looks mean."

For the first time since the nightmare began, Sara felt some of the burden lifting from her heart. She looked up into Lindsay's eyes and saw Catherine's reflection in them. She cursed herself for letting go of Lindsay. She had been so wrapped in her own suffering that she hadn't been there for the girl. But now, she was determined to change that. She leant forward and gave her a quick kiss.

"Linds, I want you to meet Kyle." Sara motioned to the boy silently watching them.

"Hello Kyle." Lindsay smiled, as she wiped tears from her face.

He nodded without a word, but his expression wasn't entirely unfriendly.

"Alright, children, let us go inside. And you both better start thinking of what you wanna eat. The first one to speak wins." Sara grinned down at both of them before opening her door.

* * *

The all-time American teenage favorite, pizza, was unanimously voted as their lunch of choice. They were all bundled together on the floor in Sara's living room, watching _Madagascar_. Lindsay had strongly opposed to the suggestion that they should inform Sam and Lily about her whereabouts. Sara had tried to reason with her, but rather half-heartedly. In the end, they compromised to a phone call after the movie. 

Sara went to get her cellphone from her room. It was still attached to the charger. In her hurry to leave for San Francisco, she hadn't had time to charge it. She plugged it into the socket. As soon as power surged through the device, an icon beeped, notifying her of voice messages. There were a couple from Greg and Nick. From work, only Grissom knew about her trip. There were two texts from her brother, asking her to meet up sometime. Then there was an unknown number and several messages from a caller which looked vaguely familiar. She went for the anonymous one first.

The message started with a heavy silence before an unfamiliar voice, definitely female, spoke, "This is Dr. Mkibo from the _We Care Medical Clinic_. There is a patient here that… " And then she heard a scream and muffled sounds of a struggle before it ended.

"That's strange." She frowned. She dialed the number but received the operator's message that it was unavailable. Her scowl only darkened. She then went on to the next few. She almost dropped her phone in surprise when she heard it.

"Hey Sara, this is Hank. I don't know if you remember me… but… well, just call me at this number."

_Hank?_ – She ran a hand across her hair in disbelief – _Why the hell is Hank calling me?_

She skimmed through three more of his messages which were similar in content. She was wavering somewhere between irritation and confusion. Hank Peddigrew was indeed a blast from the past that she didn't want to remember. Now, after nearly five years of breaking up with him, she wondered why he would want to talk to her. Only one thing came to mind.

With Catherine gone, Hank felt she was single enough to date again. That he would consider himself a likely candidate, was all the more cause for her to ignore his message.

She called Sam's place, but was told by the butler that he was in his study and didn't want to be disturbed. He informed her that Lily and Nancy had left the house to discuss something with Catherine's lawyer. Then on a thought she asked the man where Lindsay was. His noncommittal reply was that "Miss Lindsay" is probably sleeping in her room. She rolled her eyes. Nobody even knew that the girl was absent from home.

She had just about arranged her clothes in her closet when a knock came on the front door. Expecting Lily or Grissom, Sara rushed to open it.

"Hank?" She gaped at him.

"So, you are home after all." He feebly smiled.

"What do you want, Hank?"

"You haven't answered my calls."

She gave him an exasperated look. "Is that why you are here?"

"Yes and no. I was worried something had happened to you."

"Your concern is touching. But, as you can see, I'm perfectly alive."

He raised his hands in defeat. "Sara, I know you are angry with me and everything, but can we just let bygones be bygones?"

"Correction, Hank. I'm _not_ angry with you. _You _mean nothing to me."

He shrugged. "Fine, alright. But would you at least hear me out?"

She gave him a pointed look before nodding.

"I saw Catherine Willows three days ago."

Anger boiled through her like molten lava. "This is not funny, Hank."

"I knew you won't believe me, so I'm going to take you somewhere."

"I'm not going anywhere with you. This discussion is done." Sara proceeded to close her door when he laid a shielding hand against the wood.

"Please, Sara, I promise you I'm telling the truth. I can't convince you unless you come with me."

She jabbed a finger on his chest. "What do you think you want to accomplish by telling me all this? Catherine is no more. I'm just starting to accept that. Inside I have her daughter who will probably take forever to come in terms with her death. I don't appreciate such jokes."

"It is not a joke." He muttered impatiently. "Why on earth would I joke about something like this?"

"I don't know… maybe you have upgraded from a two-timing jerk to a sick bastard?"

"Just give me this one chance, please? You don't even have to come with me if you don't trust me. I'll give you the address and we can meet there." Just as he was saying that, he took out a business card from his front pocket.

"Here, this is where I'll be at 2." He reached it out.

Sara didn't look at his hand. She kept her glare focused on him. He sighed and placed it on the floor. "I hope I see you there, Sara." With that, he walked away.

* * *

Hank strolled towards the visitor's parking lot. He had about an hour to reach the clinic. That gave him enough time to stop somewhere for a bite. But he hardly felt hungry. The confrontation with Sara went worse than he expected. She obviously despised him and with good reasons. He hadn't done right by her all those years ago. He had married Elaine, enamored, as much by her beauty as her inherited wealth. The marriage proved to be the first step towards his ruin. He discovered that he was just another pawn in her game of I-need-to-rebel-against-my-rich-parents. He found out about her numerous affairs and liaisons. Rejected and humiliated, he sought solace in drinking and gambling. However, in that time of darkness, he did have some relief in the form of his son. But very soon, Elaine insisted that their child be taught proper etiquettes and style, and she wanted her parents to take care of it. He had protested, but she had all sorts of leverage against him, not the least of all being his immense loans. Not being able to bear the depression any longer, he had filed for divorce. As expected, he lost the custody battle and now he gets to meet his Benny only once every month. 

Hank kicked his car out of frustration. He had liked Sara, enjoyed his time with her, but he had been too much of a coward. He slammed open his car door and got in. He only half expected her to show up, but he mentally promised himself that he won't rest until he proved to her that he was right. He had long waited for a way to redeem himself.

The Dodge sedan grunted to life and Hank rolled it across the dry path. He had barely reached the main road when he felt cold metal pressing against his neck.

"What the…" His first reaction was to turn back, but he couldn't do that, so he looked into his rearview mirror. All he saw was a masked face.

"Drive where I ask you to." The man behind commanded.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Hank cried out hoarsely.

"All those questions are immaterial right now. What is important is that I have a gun in my hand and if you don't follow my orders, I'm going to use it."

Hank swallowed hard. His mind raced to all the people he still owed money. Some of them were rich and powerful, but he couldn't think of anyone who was dangerous. He once again looked into the mirror. As a shaft of light crossed the car, he caught a glimpse of chocolate brown eyes.

* * *

Sara stood lingering at her doorway, thinking over what Hank had said. During the short period when they had been dating, he had shown a decent sense of humor. Either that had changed drastically… or there was something else. 

She watched Lindsay and Kyle painting. They had something in common. They were raised by single moms, never mind that Kyle's didn't really care much for him. And they both had lost their mothers to that terrible explosion, the cause of which was yet unknown. As someone undoubtedly observed, grief unites people like none other.

She once again pondered over what Hank had said.

"_I saw Catherine Willows three days ago."_

She reopened the door. Hank was gone but the card lay at the step. She bent down and picked it up. Her heart rate leapt when she saw the embossed letters on them.

We Care Medical Center

* * *

Sean could see that Hank was sweating. He knew it wasn't the kind brought about by the desert heat around them, but instead the cold, clammy type which is a result of primitive fear. He had ordered him to drive further and further away from the city, until they were now veering across the arid, isolated fringes of Las Vegas. 

"Stop."

Hank stepped on the brakes, bringing the car to a halt. "Sir, listen, I'll pay you whatever I owe you. Trust me, I'm doing my best. I work two shifts. I work restaurants during the weekends. I…"

"Shut up." Sean cut in impatiently. He peered through the window and gazed around. There wasn't a sign of life anywhere. "Get out of the car, hands on your head."

Hank obeyed, his hands raised accordingly. Sean pressed the muzzle of his gun to the back and urged Hank to move forward. They walked on until they reached an overhanging cliff which dropped sharply to the bottom.

"Wh-where are you taking me?" Hank was shivering.

"Down."

He gave a hard shove.

Hank hardly had time to scream before he toppled to his death.

Sean waited and then smiled when he heard a satisfying thud and a crack. He gazed upwards. Already, the clear sky was getting dotted. The scavengers had come for their feast.

* * *

**I did take a lot of liberty to twist Hank's story into a tale of bad karma. By all means, Elaine might be a terrific Saint. For the sake of my story, she can't be.**

**As usual, thanks for all the reviews!**


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

**Chapter Twenty Six**

Catherine looked up from her book when she heard slight footsteps on the wooden staircase. Dr. Mkibo was carrying a tiny glass vial and a standard syringe.

"Morphine, for your pain." Dr. Mkibo's face was passive.

"Thank you, doctor." Catherine waited as the doctor drew out the liquid from the bottle, rubbed alcohol over the injection site and depressed the plunger. She could feel a chill where the liquid had flowed into her bloodstream.

"How long?" Catherine asked.

"Zolpidem takes around twenty-twenty five minutes to work." She replied, wrapping her syringe in the plastic wrapper.

"And for how long will it last?"

"We'll be good for at least six hours." Mkibo let slip a smile.

"That is, if we assume they won't be having company anytime soon."

"Yes." Her flawless, ebony face creased into a grimace. "But let's not think about that, right now."

"But what about the morphine? In another few minutes, my brain's gonna be foggier than a marsh.'

"Oh, it was just tap water."

It took all of Catherine's effort to not grin as she saw Greta Mkibo make her way back upstairs.

* * *

Sara dropped off Lindsay at Sam's, despite the girl's and her own reluctance. But if she was going to talk to Hank about Catherine, she didn't want the girl there. Lindsay was desperately trying to be strong and holding her grief in check, and the last thing Sara wanted her to have is false hope. 

_We Care_ was a privately owned clinic where the many uninsured and illegal immigrants could be treated. It was at quite a distance from downtown Vegas and the locality had a dilapidated look about it. Sara parked her car beside a station wagon. Kyle obediently followed her out and they walked towards the clinic together. The lobby was fairly busy but she saw no signs of Hank. She walked up to the pristine white desk.

"Excuse me, but do you know if a Hank Peddigrew was here?" Sara enquired.

"Who?" A stout woman gave her a bored look.

"Hank Peddigrew. He's a paramedic."

"Nope, we don't get the EMS guys here."

"Well, he might not be on duty." Sara inferred.

"What do you mean, he was a patient?"

"No, not really."

"Then I can't help you." The woman waved her hands dismissively and went to attend to a turbaned South Asian.

Sara saw that all the chairs in the waiting area were filled with either people or their belongings. She took Kyle and waited by the water cooler.

Her watch read 2:35 and she began to fidget with irritation. She then took out her phone and dialed the number that Hank had used to call her. An engaged tone filled the other side. After two more unsuccessful trials, she muttered a few expletives under her breath and shoved her phone inside her jacket. She was about to leave through the door when a thought struck her. She returned to the front desk woman.

"Ma'am, can you tell me if a Dr. Mkibo is on duty right now?"

"Dr. Mkibo?" A single tweezed eyebrow shot up. "What's _your_ business with her?"

"Excuse me?" Sara doubled back, stung by the rather sharp tone.

"Look lady, we don't want no trouble out here."

"There won't be any trouble. I just want to talk to Dr. Mkibo. A friend recommended her to me."

"Yeah right, as if I'll believe that."

Sara took a deep breath and then procured her badge. "Ma'am, I'm from the LVPD. I suggest you call the good doctor." She took a bet on the fact that the woman wouldn't really know the difference between an officer's and a CSI's badge.

"Sh-she's not here." The woman stuttered.

"Where is she?"

"No one knows. She just upped and left the clinic for three days. All she said was she had some important work."

"Did she tell you what important work?"

"No." Her bulbous head shook from left to right. "One minute she was attending to some suicidal blonde and the next, she was leaving. She just said she needed to see to that blonde and after that she had her own affairs to attend to."

Sara leant forward. The woman was getting slightly agitated and she didn't want to create a scene. "She left with the blonde?"

"Yeah."

"Can you describe the blonde for me?"

"I didn't catch a good look. But I can get you someone who did." She leant over the counter and hollered to a nurse. "Hey Nina, come over here, will ya?"

"What now?" Nina groaned.

"The lady here wants to talk." The woman was all too eager to hand Sara over to Nina.

"Yes Ma'am?"

"I want to know about Dr. Mkibo and the last patient she saw." Sara requested.

"Oh, the blonde who went all cutter? A smart cookie, she was. She knew exactly how to fake a suicide attempt."

"What do you mean?"

Nina went on to explain. Sara feigned only a mild interest, but she was feeling a powerful rush of disquiet inside her.

"And can you tell me anything about her appearance?"

"Well, she was a pretty one. Late thirties, early forties maybe. Strawberry blonde, nice blue eyes."

Sara took out her wallet. She pulled Catherine's picture from inside and showed it to Nina. "Was this the woman?"

Nina squinted and then nodded. "Yeah… yeah… looks right."

Her pulse was now racing wildly. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Lady, I'm pretty good with faces. I can say that I'm like 95 sure, plus or minus point-oh-five."

Sara's eyes noticed the camera perched directly across the front entrance. "Do you have the surveillance tapes from that day?"

The girl looked unsure. "I guess, but we can't show it you."

"I'm from the Las Vegas PD."

"We ain't doin' anything wrong here, officer." Nina was now trembling.

"I'm not here to charge you with anything, Nina." Sara assured her as gently as possible. "But if I have to come back with a warrant, there might be some more officers, and not to mention a possible inquiry… you don't want that, do you?"

"But… but…"

"Your patients might get freaked out seeing all the cops."

That decided for Nina. She vigorously looked sideways before disappearing into the room behind the desk. Sara found her hands getting ice cold and she rubbed it against each other. When the girl returned, it took all of her restraint to not snatch those tapes from her hand.

* * *

Catherine shivered with anticipation when she heard footsteps on the boarded stairs. It increased when an equally eager Dr. Mkibo appeared. She kept her expression neutral, however. 

"You are ready?" The doctor looked at her.

Catherine nodded. She picked up the clothes lying neatly in a pile beside her. It was the same ribbed green sweater and jeans she had worn on the last day she remembered before ending up in this shithole. She hurried towards the bathroom to change. Dr. Mkibo kept one wary eye towards the stairs until she returned.

"Are you sure about this?" Catherine asked her, before they climbed up.

"I'll have to escape or else they will kill me." She replied matter-of-factly.

The two women cautiously made their way out of the basement. Catherine only vaguely recalled this part of the house from the last time she was carried up. It was poorly furnished, serving a necessity rather than relaxation.

"Where are they?"

"In a room where they have all the screens set up to monitor you." Mkibo fished out a key. "I got this from the girl. The desert's gonna be one killer if we try to cross it on feet."

Catherine smiled at the doctor.

They didn't waste any time in hurrying out of the cabin; their eyes were constantly moving around to detect any sign of danger. So far, it seemed they were completely alone.

The sweltering mid-noon heat burnt through their skins when they stepped out of the shade of the cabin.

"We should have got a gun from them." Catherine wondered aloud.

The other woman looked back towards the rickety structure and swallowed hard. "Do you think we'll need it? I kinda don't want to go back there."

"I'll do it." Without waiting for an agreement, Catherine ran back. She carefully made her way across the worn carpets and searched every room until she found the one where the two were knocked out. The muscular guy was sprawled on a revolving chair, which was in danger of caving under his bulk. The woman was in a supine position on the ground. She expected the guy to carry a weapon, but not likely a gun. She still searched him to be safe. Next she browsed through the pockets of the woman. One look at her face halted her probing fingers. Her young captor looked angelically innocent under sedation. She wondered what had prompted someone like her to take up this route.

Catherine found a gun in the woman's left hand, which was tucked beneath her body weight. She ripped out the polyethylene wrapper from a blank CD box and used it to carefully pluck the gun out of the slim fingers. The next thing that she had to do was get the tapes for the basement camera. They would prove valuable evidence. She pressed _Eject_ for the players and collected the stack of previously used tapes. They were plenty and she didn't know which ones were important, but she didn't have time to try them out. There was a bag with a SONY logo lying under the desk and she bundled all the tapes in it. Not wishing to spend a single more second in that place, she hurried out.

Mkibo was already in the car, a late 90's Chevy sedan. She raised her eyebrows at the bag of tapes in Catherine's hand but didn't comment on it.

"You know the way?" Catherine asked.

"They did blindfold me when they brought us here." Mkibo grimaced. "But I went on a lot of field trips for learning the Nevadan flora and fauna. I know something about the desert topography and we'll just go with that instinct."

"It's better than nothing." She assured her.

The doctor nodded and set the car in motion. The two women gave one last look at their former prison and felt a potent blend of excitement and dread. They were now really close to their freedom and they could only hope that nothing spoilt that.

* * *

Sara didn't care that she had probably broken all road rules when she sped her way past the traffic. Angry drivers honked their horns at her and she had nearly come close to slamming into a minivan. She was only thankful that no police was nearby to catch her irresponsibility. When she swerved on to the parking lot of the Crime Lab, she all but flew her way to Grissom's office. 

"Grissom." Sara barged into his congested working area.

"Sara, I was just about to call you." He had the kind of look which usually spelt that he was on the verge of a major case cracker. She was, however, too occupied to take notice of that.

"I have something to show you." She held up the security camera video.

"What's that?" Grissom frowned.

"I don't know yet, but I want to find out."

He looked at her face which was glowing with perspiration. But it also held an inner zeal that had been missing from her since the news of Catherine's death.

"Alright, let's get this to Archie."

At the AV lab, Archie Johnson inserted the tape into the player and let it load. The screen filled with grainy, black-and-white images. Sara recognized the front lobby of the _We Care_ clinic. It was fairly empty, except for the few rangy immigrant patients.

"This place looks like a clinic." Archie observed.

"It is." Sara nodded absently. "Arch, can you forward it a little?"

"Sure thing." The video forwarded rapidly with the top of the screen showing the elapse in time.

"Hey, stop there." Grissom jerked. The AV tech moved reflexively and the scene paused.

"Shit, is that…" Archie's eyes widened. "She… she looks…"

"She looks like Catherine." Sara finished for him.

The young man scowled. "But the top says August the 5th. That's just three days ago. There must be some mistake."

"Where did you get this tape from?" Grissom asked, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"From a clinic in Eastern Las Vegas. And there is no mistake. The footage is indeed from three days ago."

"But that's impossible." The tech mumbled.

"Can you get a clearer picture of Ca- the woman on the gurney?

"Yeah." His nimble fingers slid over the keys expertly and the screen zoomed in on the woman's face. Then the pixel resolution adjusted and the image became sharper. So did the intake of breath from all three of the witnesses.

"Grissom, what does this mean?" Sara turned towards him, not really expecting an answer, but desperately needing his rational analysis.

"I don't know." He looked lost. "Archie, keep playing."

The three CSIs stared at the screen as if they were sighting an apparition. And they did believe it to be an apparition, because the prospect that Catherine could still be alive was too huge for their minds to correctly register.

They saw the entire sequence from when 'Catherine' was wheeled inside, out of sight, to when she was brought out. Sara saw Hank appear in the footage at around the same time that they left. Hank hadn't been lying after all.

"Get me the faces of the three people accompanying her." Grissom instructed.

Archie did as he was told and immediately the screen was bracketed into three segments, each containing a highly modified face picture. By then, Grissom was already done punching into his pager.

"Archie, can you go back and focus on the door? I thought I saw a car there." Sara said.

The screen flipped back to the frozen image from the clinic. True indeed, they could see the rear lights of a vehicle that looked black. The tech focused on the license plate and clarified it on the screen.

"I've seen that number somewhere." Sara furrowed her brow, trying to remember.

Like a flash of lightning, it hit her.

She straightened up and was ready to bolt out of the room when Grissom caught hold of her.

"Where are you going?"

"There's something I have to do… alone."

"If it is pertaining to this case, I can't allow you to go alone."

"Grissom, please, trust me on this."

"But Sara…"

"I promise I'll tell you everything. I just want to make sure." She squeezed his hand. "I'll stay in contact."

Sara plugged her headset to her ear as soon as she got in the car. She maneuvered her Tahoe out of the parking lot and into the main street.

That one meeting with her brother had planted seeds of curiosity in her mind and she had used the search engines to find the map to his place. She couldn't really explain why she did it; maybe it was because she needed to know the route in case she became desperate enough to seek her one blood relative. She remembered seeing an Explorer with that same license plate drive in when the limo was driving her out. She found the dusty SUV out-of-place in that polished neighborhood and that's why it had stuck in her memory.

Sean Sidle's sudden appearance in her life might not be a strange coincidence after all.

* * *

**I won't be updating in a while, so here's a little cliffie and a whole lot of hope to keep you occupied :P**


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Chapter Twenty Seven **

When Sara barged out, Grissom was of two minds to follow her. He knew he couldn't leave her alone on whatever crazy mission she was on. But he also knew that she wouldn't listen to him. Not in this state. Watching the video had raised an infinite amount of questions in that short time and he was still reeling from its effect. He steeled himself from hoping too much, but the spark of hope that had erupted inside him was causing a fire of emotions.

It took him maybe a minute to collect himself before he called Brass. He quickly, and as briefly as possible, related to his friend the situation. He could sense Brass' befuddlement and was relieved when the Captain didn't ask too many questions. He promised Grissom that he will send an officer with Sara, an officer who wouldn't deter to follow orders.

Grissom had barely pocketed his phone when his pager beeped. He frowned when he recognized the message from the front desk. There was a visitor for him.

* * *

Most people felt intimidated, nervous or downright frightened in a police building. Lady Heather felt none of those. She had made more trips there than an average person, but that wasn't the reason for her relative calm. The authority or power that PD professionals possessed didn't awe her. Neither was she impressed by their supposed symbols of heroism. She was someone who used to operate in the shadowy border between normalcy and aberrance and the police was just a mere inconvenience to be tolerated on occasions. 

She coolly looked up when Grissom approached her. The quick expression of surprise on his face would have been missed by anyone else. But she wasn't anyone else. She curved her lips slightly in a half smile. However, her rigid posture indicated the urgency of her visit.

"This way." He gestured for her to follow him. It was a relief for both of them that they didn't prefer useless platitudes.

It was the first time he had taken her into his office. Every time that she had been here, they had always held their conversations in the interrogation rooms. Needless to say, their encounters in the Crime Lab were never of a pleasant nature.

She liked his office. It suited his personality. She recognized some of the exotic species of the Arachnids. A few years ago, she had developed a desire to read more about insects. That desire, along with many others, was crushed after Zoe's death. For the first time since her daughter's demise she felt an interest ping her heart.

"Please take a seat." Grissom took off his glasses and waited for her to settle down. Then he did the same. "So, what brings you here?"

Lady Heather took out a snapshot and placed it on the desk in front of him. He tore his gaze away from her to glance at it. There was a moment of still silence as he concentrated hard on the image. Finally he whispered, "Who's she?"

"Joyce Dreyson. Her sister told me she went missing around the time of the shopping plaza's explosion."

"Why didn't she come forward before?"

"I believe you'll find that Joyce is wanted in the state of Texas. Her sister was hoping not to bring police attention."

"So, maybe she ran away?"

"The sisters are very close. Joyce would have told her if she was planning to run."

"But she could have run away nevertheless." Grissom stated. "Maybe she was scared. Maybe she wanted to protect her sister. Maybe she got noticed by the cops."

"Maybe she got killed."

His brows wrinkled.

Lady Heather leant forward. "Her resemblance with Catherine Willows, are you going to tell me that's just an eerie coincidence?"

"No. But if the alternative is true, I don't know what it means yet."

"You told me that you never recovered her body on the site."

"We didn't, but the place was a wreck and we just assumed that it was burnt, washed away or simply too fragmented." His voice was passive; his eyes were stormy.

Lady Heather took out and then tentatively held between her thumb and index finger a zipper bag. In it were brown hair fibers.

"Kayla couldn't give me any DNA samples from her sister, so I asked for some of hers. She being a blood relative could be useful, yes?"

He regarded her intently. "Yes, but you handling the evidence means we cannot use it."

"This evidence wouldn't acquit or accuse anyone. All she needs to know is whether her sister is alive." The bag landed on the desk with an inaudible crimple of plastic. She stood up from her seat. He felt his insides quiver at the tension cackling in the air. Her features softened. "I'll remember it as a favor."

"Heather?"

Her limbs froze in mid-action. "Yes?"

"Why did you remove yourself from your world?" He was surprised to hear himself sound so nervous. He had constantly reminded himself that what or why she did anything wasn't his business. But natural curiosity and concern for her fuelled his question.

She waited before replying. She didn't appear to be taking the time to craft a lie. He realized, with a sinking heart, that she was debating whether to trust him enough to open up to him.

"Grissom, I have done a lot of things that many people, including you, wouldn't approve of." Lady Heather gave him a pointed look. "But I had a single purpose in life. I wanted Zoe happy. Without her, the feeling I once had for life is no more. I don't need to earn to survive and I respect my business enough to not direct it without any passion."

They seemed to be not separated by a mere desk but by a vast ocean. The distance between them wasn't palpable but present all the same. Grissom usually never craved for more stronger interpersonal skills. But, of present, he was haunted by it. He wished he could offer Lady Heather some words of condolence and wipe away the gloom that had descended upon her powerful personality. He couldn't even touch her and express his understanding. He had forfeited that right a long time ago.

She looked away from him and gathered her purse. "I must go."

He wanted her to stop. He wanted to ask if they could meet again. He wanted to not rely on fate to cross their paths in some distant future. He wanted to be in her life. But he found himself unable to express any of it.

So he watched helpless as she quietly left the room.

* * *

"Can you drive faster?" 

"I'm going the maximum, Ma'am."

"It seems more like the minimum." Sara muttered.

Beside her, Officer Randall remained unperturbed by his companion's obvious displeasure. His Captain had commanded him to give Sara security and that was what he was going to do. He believed in obeying his superiors and keeping his questions quiet when they weren't needed. He didn't know nor care where they were going apart from the directions she provided in clipped tones.

Sara faced the rearview and watched the dust settle behind their speeding car. She regretted telling Grissom about this little trip. She didn't want an officer to babysit her. She had to confront her brother in a roundabout fashion. She was still thinking of how to accomplish that when a uniform showed up and stopped her from leaving the parking lot. Now she had lost all hopes of keeping Sean from getting suspicious. Sara racked her head to vigorously come up with some plan.

"Oh, what is that?" Randall's rather boyish voice shook her from her thoughts.

"What is what?"

"There, up ahead."

Sara huffed impatiently when she saw that a sedan had blocked off the path a few meters ahead. The car was a dirty maroon color and it stood motionless across their way.

"Do you see anyone close by?"

"No... maybe… wait…" Sara squinted. Her gaze caught figures both inside and out of the car. She moved her head sideways to catch a better look. "It seems like there are three people."

"You think they are in trouble?"

"I think they just enjoy parking their cars in the middle of the road."

Randall ignored her sarcasm as he picked up speed. It was hard to get a good look at the people. One of them came to stand in front of the driver's window, obstructing its view. The physique was definitely male.

Randall stopped the engine at an appropriate distance from the road block. She followed him out of the car. The guy was standing in an odd position. He was half turned towards them, his right hand hidden away from sight. Sara still couldn't see the people inside the car, but by the occasional glimpses she got, she determined that they were both female.

"Problems with your car, sir?" Randall shouted out.

"I'm afraid so, officer. Could you please come and give it a look?"

Sara was unarmed and maintained a safe distance. From her position, she got a look at the road intersecting the highway exactly where the car stood. Thorny branches made it difficult for her to see much, but a lucky angle exposed the flash of black metal against the sun. She used the drilled geometry lessons in her memory and leant slightly towards the right. The glare had unmistakably been from the surface of a black vehicle. On impulse, her eyes darted back to the guy. Her mind took in the buff form, the tattooed dragons on his arms and the scruffy face. She realized with a start what had caused the feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach.

It was the same guy she had seen in the clinic's security tape.

Even before common sense could stop her, she yelled for Randall.

After that, everything happened in a rapid blur. All she registered was a series of gunshots, muffled screams and Catherine emerging from the sedan. Even before the idea that she was hallucinating came to her, she felt wetness soaking the front of her shirt. She glanced down and saw a large red stain blotched near her stomach. Some alien portion of her brain analyzed that a high-speed bullet had just exited through her, and possibly ruptured numerous blood vessels and vital organs in the process. But she strangely didn't feel any pain. Her head, though, started swimming and black-and-white, grainy images passed by her eyes in accelerated succession. She didn't know how or when she dropped to her knees and slumped backwards. The last thing she saw, before everything turned into final darkness, was Catherine's face.

Sara could feel her facial muscles strain into a smile.

* * *

**Sorry guys for the enormous delay. Wanted to squeeze in as much fun as possible before returning to the start of semester. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. The chapter wasn't supposed to be this short. But it would have been insanely long otherwise. So, a lot of things will be explained in the next chapter. **

**Please keep the reviews coming :)**


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Chapter Twenty Eight **

Catherine had allowed Mkibo to navigate through the stark desert. No landmarks guided their way. She could only trust the doctor's geographical understanding learnt some ten years ago. She had stayed silent for most of their journey, letting her to concentrate on finding their way towards the nearest center of habitation. Only occasionally did Mkibo break the silence to ask her about herself. They had shared brief introductions in the cabin. After getting over her initial shock to learn that she was speaking to the announced-dead Catherine Willows, she had come up with a plan of escape. As a doctor, their captors had allowed her to bring some basic analgesics. When she had showed them the seemingly innocent Zolpidem, they hadn't raised a single eyebrow. It took only a single trip to the kitchen, on the pretext of getting food for Catherine, to sprinkle the ground pills atop the pizza.

Mkibo talked about her rocky marriage, the cause of which was her budding affection for an EMT. She talked about her daughter who, Catherine learnt, was five years younger than Lindsay. She talked about her mother, a Broadway actress and her father, a Navy officer. Catherine, for her part, skimmed through the details of her early life. Her innocuously bubbly life in a Montana farm and then her desire to come and see the big city life which led to her failed marriage with Eddie were related in four short sentences. It wasn't that she was ashamed of her downward spiral into the world of drugs, booze and sex and her later stint as an exotic dancer. Those had toughened her and she had met some nice people in that hellhole. It was just that those portions of her life now seemed so far away and distant that it seldom got an entrance into her memory. Talking about it would be like narrating a scene from a movie she had watched one night. Mkibo did, however, ask her about Sara and whether Catherine knew what was being claimed in the news.

"I know Sara has no hand in it." Catherine's tone had a finality in it.

"You can't be too sure nowadays." Mkibo reminded her, somewhat sadly. "You love her and it is hard to imagine the person you love as…"

"No, you don't understand." She interrupted. "I'm not saying this because I love her. I'm saying this because I _know_ her. And if you knew Sara, you would agree with me."

Catherine brushed back limp strands of her hair. "She has this unshakeable sense of morality and justice that, even though admirable, can stand in the way of her reason. And if you are one of those people who she is not close to, or God forbid, she dislikes, then you'll be greeted with her jaded side. She can be blunt, hard-headed stubborn, unimpressed by authority, oblivious to regulations, if she is on the pursuit of her passionate righteousness. Believe me when I say that for the first six years that I knew her, we were not on the best of terms. We were mutually on each other's list of 'ten people I can't tolerate'."

Mkibo wheezed out a chuckle of surprise.

Catherine smiled wistfully. "But even then, I could trust her with my whole life."

Their scattered conversations helped in keeping their minds from the anxiety of being caught. It was only when they noticed a silver streak gleaming in the horizon that they could afford to bring hope into their hearts. The highway was near and that meant so were signs of civilization.

However, hopes shattered faster than they could comprehend and Mkibo noticed someone following them. It was a black SUV, advancing menacingly towards them with its superior size and speed. They couldn't afford to risk thinking that it was some other vehicle being pumped to full gas by a crazy driver. Neither did they have the time to ruminate how could one or both of their captors wake past the sedation. Catherine kept a wary eye at the Explorer nosing in from behind them while the doctor charged the clanging tin of their sedan to Grand Prix limits.

Like _manna_ from Heaven, Catherine saw a car wheeling through the highway towards them. Even better, she caught the insignia of the LVPD painted on the side of the car.

"Drive towards the highway, but don't turn." She advised.

"You have a plan?" Mkibo asked through gritted teeth.

"Swivel the car directly obstructing the path. Those cops won't have a choice but to stop."

She gave Catherine a dubious look but it was an idea, which was more than what she had, and something that might just work.

"What if they reach us before the cops?"

"It's a chance we'll have to take."

Catherine was occupied by dividing her attention between their pursuer and the blue-and-white cruiser speeding horizontally across the highway. With the speed that they were going in, they'll reach the highway much before the squad car could even come near. But she didn't dare ask Mkibo to slow down. The head of the Explorer was now almost touching their Chevy's rear. Just as she noticed that, they received a jarring thump from behind. The doctor swerved right to avoid the SUV from gaining towards them from the side. This got their car trunk another whack. The squeal of rubber tires and the whir of the engines loaded the air. The intolerable sound of metal scraping against each other just added to the noise. As their chaser sped from beside them, she got a good look of the driver. It was the guy called Rocky. He appeared to be alone and he was fixing them with a death glare. Catherine shuddered. Rocky struck as the kind of person who wouldn't think when angry, and he looked _very_ angry.

After what seemed like an eternity of auto race, their sedan swerved onto the smoother asphalt of the highway. As told by her companion, Mkibo stopped the car horizontally crossing the yellow lines of the highway. After the trembling speed of their vehicle, the sudden halt seemed strange. But it did nothing to lower their spiking adrenaline levels. As if guessing their intention, Rocky hadn't followed them all the way but pulled up at quite a distance.

They waited with bated breath as they saw Rocky quickly get out his car and run towards them. The cruiser was still at a good distance and there was a chance they'd never get to meet the cops.

"Get out of the fucking car!" Rocky commanded, pointing his handgun at them.

Catherine and Mkibo exchanged worried looks, but they stayed where they were.

"Didn't you hear me, bitches? I said open the fucking door and step out!"

"Go ahead, shoot me." Catherine challenged. "I know you can't risk doing that. You need me safe and unharmed."

Rocky smirked cruelly. He eyed her with unmasked hatred and then swung the gun towards Mkibo. In an unexpected movement, he pulled the trigger and the bullet zipped past them, narrowly avoiding hitting the doctor.

"I'll shoot her Black ass if you don't get out of the car." He warned.

Catherine swallowed. She knew that he would carry out his threat if she resisted. He wasn't under any compulsion to not kill Mkibo.

He grabbed the doctor's hand through the window and twisted it against the glass. She muffled back a cry of pain but tears sprung up in her eyes.

"Let her go." Catherine immediately tried to help her but Rocky was still pointing the muzzle of the gun towards them.

"You whores thought you'd get away with it, huh? Get out and start walking towards the SUV."

Catherine noticed his eyes constantly darting towards the approaching cruiser. She took the opportunity.

"The cops are here. You can't get away."

"Shut up and walk!"

"You think they can't see you?" Her voice gained confidence as she saw beads of perspiration lining his brow. "You think they won't call dispatch? How far can you run before they catch up to you?"

"I said shut the fucking up!" He forced pressure onto the squirming woman in his hands. Mkibo coughed as her arms twisted further.

"Give yourself up now and you'll get a deal."

"Get. Walking. Else I swear I'm gonna shoot your friend here." Red capillaries webbed his eyes.

"They are here, Rocky. You can't run."

Rocky clenched his muscles as he saw that the police were indeed not that far away. If not bound by his obligation to keep Willows alive, he would have emptied his barrel into their painful cunts.

"Stay in the car and don't say a word. I am gonna shoot and _nothing_ will keep me from doing so if you girls so much as sneeze. So both of you better stay put, you get me?" He demanded for Mkibo to give him the keys. He walked to both sides, scanning the interior before coming to stand in front of the driver's window, blocking them out of view. His right hand held the gun which he hid behind his back.

Catherine couldn't see the officers, but she heard a young voice asking Rocky if everything was okay. Her mind worked furiously to come up with some way of notifying the officers about their situation without harming anyone. However, she had barely begun to spin a plan when she heard a definitely female call.

The thought that Sara was there- so near, so close to her - rushed through her bones like electricity. At that moment, neither logic nor fear of death could have kept her away. She had managed to keep a lot of emotions controlled for so long, but the very feel of Sara's presence knocked down that barrage and she couldn't stop herself from throwing open the door and running towards her.

The brief delight she found on seeing Sara in person was blown apart when she heard simultaneous ringing of gunshots. It was only then that she realized what her impulsive decision had cost her. In that confusion, Rocky had pulled the trigger at the young officer and anyone who had been in the vicinity. Mkibo screamed as she saw blood pooling from the victims. Catherine watched, stunned, as a struck Sara toppled on the ground. Their eyes locked together, until Sara's glazed over and closed.

"Sara! No! No. Please no!" An inhuman cry tore from her lips. She rushed towards her wounded lover and caught hold of her head before it hit back. She cradled the slender body in her arms, gasping.

"Sara? Sara Sidle?" Rocky's eyes widened as he realized whom he had shot. "Shit, what have I done?"

Rage coursed through her veins like fire and Catherine launched herself against Rocky's massive chest. But the guy was still so shocked by the prospect of what he had done that he was rendered temporarily defenseless. That was all she needed to vent out her revengeful spite. She balled her fists and lunged at his shoulders. She grabbed the gun from his limp fingers and before he could react, she struck his face hard, repeatedly. She then pointed the muzzle between his eyes and was all set to fire when Mkibo snatched her hands away.

"Catherine, don't do this. Stop." She struggled.

"Let me." Catherine hissed.

"Sara will be fine. Don't dirty your hands with his blood. Listen to me, Catherine."

"I'm gonna kill the son-of-a-bitch."

"No, you won't. You won't." And with that, Mkibo plunged a needle into his arm. Rocky stared at his hand and then into her deeply tanned face.

"Hey!" He yelled, shaking out of his trance.

"Shut up!" Catherine hit him again, causing a nasty gash on his cheek. She looked at Mkibo. "Your drugs obviously didn't work last time."

But Rocky was already swaying, his eyelids fluttering. He tried to catch hold of Catherine, but his hands missed the aim by a good inch.

"Sara will need you." Mkibo touched her shoulder.

Her fury draining away from her, Catherine remembered the awful horror of Sara being shot. She rushed back towards the limp body. A pulse was still strong in her neck. She gulped and forced her mind to stay clear. She needed to think like a CSI. Sara's life hung on a thin thread and she couldn't allow her emotions to overwhelm.

"Check the car for a steel-case box." She found her voice amazingly calm. "Sara has a first-aid kit in there. I'll get to the radio system in the car and call for help."

* * *

Grissom was in his office, reading through all the evidence that the CSIs had cooperatively collected. They got leads into some mafia involvement with the explosion case. But as with all cases that have traces of the seedy gang world, the trails go cold and hidden. The mafia hire young, innocent young men to do their dirty jobs. Corrupted by the promise of riches and power, these kids don't even know what they are getting into until it's too late. On the other extreme, some difficult jobs require the skills of professional assassins. They are as hard to pin down. Fake IDs, fake addresses, no real records, all make their existence a shadowy concept in the real world. Until a few hours ago, Grissom had surmised that Courtney was more likely the target. Whatever she knew from her dead gangster husband needed to be hushed off. The others were innocent bystanders caught in the death. But with evidences that Catherine might be alive or alternatively someone who looks like Catherine is missing was making him wonder if she wasn't the real victim all along. He had given the hair samples to Wendy for comparison with all the other unknown samples collected from the site. 

He was just about to head towards the break room for a much needed caffeine shot when his phone rang. He picked it up to find Sofia on the other side. Within seconds, his face blanched to a deathly pale.

* * *


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Disclaimer:** The song "Just as I am" doesn't belong to me. It was written and performed by Air Supply and I have just scooped it out from my mp3 collection.

**Chapter Twenty Nine **

Catherine gingerly ran her fingers across Sara's face. It was warm. Not wanting to move her, they had stayed in the desert heat outside. Mkibo compressed the wound with an ice pack. Ripping off Sara's shirt tails, she exposed the wound and pushed its edges together. Then with the help of alcohol, an antiseptic ointment and gauzes, she tried to apply as sterile a dressing as possible. But they both didn't have to be geniuses to figure out that this makeshift arrangement won't help Sara for long. The doctor only hoped that she didn't have to perform an emergency bullet extraction out here in the desert.

"Damn, we are losing her." She muttered, placing two fingers where the carotid artery met the skin.

Catherine tightened her grip on Sara's fingers. "No, no."

"Catherine…"

"Nothing will happen to her… she's strong… so very strong."

Mkibo licked her parched lips. If the situation hadn't been so tensed, she would have been impressed by the tenderness displayed in front of her. It was hard to define the look on Catherine's face. It levitated somewhere between tearful joy and fierce panic. She was almost afraid to break the spell and her own eyes began to mist over.

Catherine, for her part, was still trying to grasp the fact that Sara was lying in her arms, bloodied and unconscious. She had summoned enough clarity of mind to dial 911. But the sight in front of her was slowly tearing her apart. Something inside her chest was suffocating her and she found herself unable to breathe. She just held on to Sara, as if doing so will keep them both fine.

Half-entering a world inhabited by memories, a tune danced on her tongue. She hummed under her breath, not caring for the words, not minding the hiccupping off-notes. She began rocking herself slightly as her voice got strong and the flashbacks stronger. The lyrics poured forth from her lips like smooth silk as she embraced Sara closer to her bosom.

**"I want to love forever  
To keep our world together  
And be the best that I can be  
Baby, every time the world caves in on me"**

---

_Catherine walked through the maze of corridors and labs that comprised the Las Vegas Crime Lab. She had just wrapped - Santa-illustrated gift paper with satin ribbons - a cold case. They got enough evidence to nail the wife, a high-profile defense attorney and social darling, and the DA was going to love it. It was the day before Christmas and she couldn't be more relieved of having that load off her shoulders. She walked towards the locker room and was pleased to find Sara shrugging into her coat. There had been something she wanted to discuss with her girlfriend, but never got the chance. _

_"Hey" She greeted. _

_"Hi Cath." Sara smiled back. "That was one long day. Glad it's over." _

_"Since you are complaining, that must have been a really long day." Catherine warmly said. "So, you ready for tonight's Christmas Ball?" _

_"Ah, actually, no." The brunette grinned, but Catherine knew she was somewhat serious. Sara hated social functions like the Christmas party the LVPD organized every year. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that some of them were rather exhausting. An entire evening is spent in smiling politely at the higher echelons of the police force. Small talk and camera-posing dominate the environment. Even she, who normally finds it effortless to be charming and talk shop, starts fiddling for excuses to leave early. _

_"Well, we can change that." Catherine stroked the dark hair. _

_"Hmm, what's that brain of yours conspiring?" Sara gave her a mock frown. _

_"I was thinking, babe… you know, now that everyone knows about us…" _

_"Not everyone." Sara cut in gently. _

_"Yes, but most. At least, our close friends." _

_"Yeah." _

_"So, I was thinking that maybe… we could… like, not keep it a secret anymore." _

_"Huh?" _

_Catherine took in a deep breath. She was going to step on slippery stones and she wanted to proceed carefully. "Sara, I was wondering if we could go to the party together." _

_Sara gaped at her for a few seconds before turning away. "You mean, as in a couple?" _

_"Well, that could be left for people to interpret. But basically yes." _

_Catherine felt her heartbeats race as Sara didn't immediately respond. She saw a scowl mar those pretty features and began to get anxious. She quickly added, "If it's what you want, of course." _

_"Cath, I dunno… I…" _

_She waited for Sara to say more, but she didn't. There was only a lost expression on the woman's face. She finally realized that Sara wasn't okay with her suggestion. _

_"Sara, it's okay, you don't have to say anything. I understand." _

_Sara opened and closed her mouth several times but eventually remained speechless. Sort of embarrassed and a little disappointed, Catherine couldn't stand there any longer. She muttered something about seeing her later and rushed out of the room. _

**_(Later that evening) _**

_She gently snapped the pearl earrings onto her ears. Catherine examined herself in the mirror but was too distracted to notice her near-perfect elegance. She was still thinking about the day's events. They hadn't spoken about it ever since the brunette came home. She understood why her lover was so reluctant to come out to everyone in the Lab. But it didn't make the hurt any less. She wanted to announce her happiness to the world and being forced into secrecy took away some of the beauty from their relationship. It gave her the impression that they were doing something wrong, something shameful. _

_She didn't want to offend Sara, or hurt herself further, so she avoided talking to her. _

_She was just about to grab her handbag when she noticed Sara standing by the doorway. Her breath almost caught in her throat when she saw the figure-hugging bodice in midnight blue clinging to the woman's slender curves. She had to make an effort to calm herself and find her voice. _

_"Yeah?" _

_"Cath, about earlier…" Sara began. She looked so forlorn that Catherine immediately forgot any of her littlest resentments. _

_"Sara, I told you, it is fine. It was stupid of me to suggest something like that. I know you need your time and I won't pressurize you." _

_"I don't want you to think that I'm not proud of our relationship, cause I am." She uttered, waving her hands for emphasis. "I'm proud of you and I wouldn't mind telling people about us. It's just that…" She wrung her fingers nervously. "I sound so silly and shallow, but you know how close-minded __Nevada__ is. I don't want to give Ecklie a reason to ruin yours or my career. Not that us, this thing between us, isn't as important. But…" _

_"No, you are right." Catherine went up to her. "Anyway, the people who matter to us, they know. Who cares about the rest?" _

_"So, you are not mad at me?" _

_"No!" She shook her blonde head, laughing softly. "I'm not mad at you." _

_"You know, we could still go together… if you want…" _

_Catherine caressed her cheeks. "No, Sara. I want you to be comfortable with everything, first. Our relationship is important to me and I want it to grow on the foundation of trust and understanding. Forcing you into anything will ruin that." _

_Sara moved to embrace her. She reveled in the aroma of freshly showered soap mixed with the heady scent from the brunette's own body. She loved how Sara touched her ever so delicately and yet caused the strongest of tingles down her spine. She felt gentle kisses on her hair and smiled. Who cares what people think or know? Sara was here, with her, and that made her happier than she could desire. _

**_(Few hours later)_**

_Catherine swirled the Chardonnay in her glass and took a sip of it. The ballroom was saturated with animated chatter and a live band playing out melodious jazz. She had gone through the routine "Hello, how are you" with the who's-who present there. Grissom, in his predictable way, had kept a reserved distance from everyone. He spoke only when absolutely necessary and right then he seemed more engrossed in a flower arrangement at the far corner of the hall. Nick had already found himself a ravishing ash-blonde to try his chivalry upon. Warrick would have generally been veering towards that same direction during his bachelor days. But right then, he was serving as a guide for Greg. Being recently promoted to Level 2, Greg had received his first invitation to the Department's Christmas Ball. Catherine noticed his bashful discomfort in the crowds of supercilious strangers and was glad to know that Warrick was there to support him. Doc Robbins was probably snuck onto a comfy couch, having scholarly discussions with the men and women of his age and wisdom. Brass was the only one standing beside her. His presence was a comforting security against Ecklie's resolute advances that had begun early in the night. The brash Captain worked where her constant rejection didn't. _

_She hadn't seen Sara for a while and wondered where she was. _

_Suddenly the overhead lights dimmed. A thick quietude hung over the air along with the various scented fragrances wafting around the men and women that night. The band had stopped playing and Catherine saw the lead pianist walk up to the center of the stage. She noticed a frown deepen the wrinkles on the Sheriff's forehead and guessed that this upcoming performance hadn't exactly been part of the evening's schedule. This made her anticipate whatever was coming up with even more eagerness. _

_"To the honorable ladies and gentlemen present tonight." The man, distinguished-looking with long, artistic fingers, bowed. "There is someone who pleases to grace this celebration with her voice. As I have had the privilege to hear a brief sample of it, I can joyfully say that it is of good caliber. But more than anything, she is someone amongst you and wishes to enhance the glory of this night. I will say no more… and make way for her." _

_"Someone among us?" Brass lifted his eyebrows. "Since when did the LDVP start music lessons?" _

_Catherine noted Greg and Nick approach her, but with the lights dimming further, she didn't pay much attention to that. A guitar began stringing in the background. The tune had a distinct 80'ish twang. _

**"I've had a lot of big dreams  
I've made a lot of bad moves"**

_Just as Catherine found herself recognizing the voice, the spotlight focused on a figure entering the stage through the side curtains. It was almost like a phantasm appearing in front of her. Deep blue, the color of a dark nightfall, glittered under the light. The beauty of the svelte dress was made superior by the tuft of hair falling upon the bare shoulders. Chocolate brown seemed to blend into the creamy richness of the flesh. Eyes filled with pools of warm wine held the audience captive, but they were solely fixed upon her. _

**"I know you could walk away  
But you never do"**

_"What. Is. Sara doing?" Warrick's voice was laced with the same incredulity that perforated the entire room. Sara Sidle, the quiet and often touchy Sara Sidle, was an enigma to many. Few could boast of having had a proper conversation with her, let alone hear her sing. _

_"Well, she always did have a beautiful voice." Nick whispered admirably. _

**"I've met a lot of cold hearts  
I've learned to smile and deceive  
I know I'm hard to be around  
But you never leave"**

_Catherine didn't know what kept her more entranced – the sight of Sara dazzling with an inner splendor or her voice that could rival the hypnotism of ancient sirens. She knew about her lover's singing abilities, but even after several months of dating, she had almost never been esteemed with a performance. Only Lindsay seemed to have had and she never stopped gushing about it. Catherine now understood what had made her daughter a fan. _

**"I'm not easy to understand  
But you hold out your hand"**

_And then it struck her. Sara was singing **to** her. There was more than just the rapturous concentration common on a singer's face. She was looking at her, speaking to her, sending her a message. _

**"And you say you love me  
Just as I am  
You always treat me  
The best that you can  
You say you want me, need me  
Love me, baby  
Just as I am, just as I am"**

_"Ahem, Catherine?" Greg was trying hard not to grin. "Methinks those words are for you." _

_"**I** think you guys need to get some tips. What say, Nicky boy?" Brass chuckled. _

_"You've obviously never heard Nick sing." Warrick teased. _

_"Ha ha, very funny." Nick feigned a hurt expression. _

**"I've made a lot of heartaches  
I've found a lot of closed doors  
When all the others turn away  
You love me more  
You love me more"**

_Sara stopped singing. The stillness was so complete that Catherine doubted anyone dared shatter it with a breath. Her own system seemed to be in absolute chaos, as she couldn't tear her gaze away from the stage. _

_Sara came closer to the mike. "This is one of those songs I remember listening to as a young girl. I still remember how deep the words seemed, even then, even when I didn't know the meaning of love or its essence. And so many years later, the feeling evoked is still fresh. Perhaps even more so, now that I understand what the singer must have gone through." _

_She paused, looking around. "Today, for a few moments, I thought I lost someone. And that thought terrified me. The thing is, if I would have lost her, it would have been my fault. Feeling for someone, wanting to share your life with someone, knowing that someone makes you so happy, believing that someone cherishes you for who you are, is a wonderful experience. And it's an experience I would wish upon everyone. I thought I was afraid of what the world would think of my feelings. But now, I know that I'm not afraid. Because being scared means I have done something wrong. And this doesn't feel anything but right." _

_Catherine's heart was thudding so loud in her ribcage that she was sure everyone could hear it. As it was, everyone appeared mesmerized by Sara's presence and seemed oblivious to anything but the raw emotions spilling out from her lips. _

_"I want to dedicate this song to that someone who has brought an entirely new meaning to my life." Sara gave a brilliant smile. "Catherine Willows, I dedicate this song to you." _

_Jaws dropping all the way to the center of the earth must have definitely caused those thumping sounds. The Sheriff's pupils moved back and forth between Sara and Catherine, like in a tennis match. His wife scrunched up her nose in disgust. Ecklie recovered from his shock quick enough to send a spiteful glance her way. The Director of the Crime Lab grunted and asked for more wine. There were some who murmured "Aw, how cute". Some even merrily sang along. She saw Grissom purse his lips in amusement, obviously enjoying how the evening took an unexpected turn. His rock-steady gaze told, though, that he will be there for her and Sara if they needed him. _

_If there was anything Catherine couldn't imagine doing, it would have been loving Sara more. But right then, she did. She knew how difficult it is for the brunette to talk about her feelings, forget announcing it. But she still did it, and all for her. No one - not her initially gallant Eddie, not the filthy rich men she had dated, not even her jocky prom date - had ever declared their affection for her publicly. For a time, she had almost begun to believe that she was an embarrassment to the people she went out with. But Sara had overcome all barriers of her own inhibitions and gifted her with more than words. This was the most romantic thing she could ever imagine and for that she was deeply touched. _

**"I'm not easy to understand  
But you hold out your hand**

**And you say you love me  
Just as I am  
You always treat me  
The best that you can  
You say you want me, need me  
Love me, baby  
Just as I am, just as I am"**

---

"Catherine? Catherine, the paramedics are here." Mkibo shook her gently.

As if from a great distance, she could hear the buzzer from the EMS vans. She even registered the procedural talk of the technicians and the police. Officers came beside her and tried to pry her away. But her hands seemed to have a will of its own and held on fast to Sara.

"Catherine, let her go."

She looked up into those flint-grey eyes she recognized so well. Grissom was leaning towards her, his fingers tenderly covering her own.

"She needs to get to a hospital, Cath. Let her go."

Maybe it was his soft voice or maybe it was the content of his words, but she finally let him move her away. The paramedics immediately circled around the injured Sara and loaded her atop the gurney. She collapsed against him, spent of any energy. She heard him direct some of the EMTs to check up on her. She even saw some of the officers making their way towards the drugged form of Rocky.

Sofia handed Mkibo a bottle of water and was listening to her shaky narration. She efficiently did her duty, but she couldn't help straying her eyes towards Catherine. It had taken her several minutes, during which she rechecked the 911 call and spoke to the blonde personally, for her to believe that Catherine was indeed on the other line.

Grissom was hugging her and Catherine would have been thankful for his comfort if her heart and soul weren't being wheeled along with the paramedics. She watched until Sara disappeared inside the van. Through a cracked voice, she sang a heartfelt tune.

**"And you say you love me  
Just as I am  
You always treat me  
The best that you can  
You say you want me, need me  
Love me, baby  
Just as I am, just as I am"**

* * *

A/N - Though, song fics have never been my expertise, I wanted to explore Sara's "singing side". Also, after the insane suspense of the last few chapters, I figured we all needed a break. Won't be updating in another few days (I know you hate that sentence, me too). Thanks for all the reading and reviewing so far. Please keep them up until the last :) 


	31. Chapter Thirty

**Chapter Thirty**

Sean enjoyed – no, relished – the screams of pain and tears of shame. For him sex wasn't about love. It wasn't even about lust. It was about control, pure and powerful. In bed, like in life, he wanted to be the one dominant and he exerted that ruthlessly. When he heaved himself off from bed, his wife was bleeding. In the pale light of the room, he smiled at the bruises and marks he left on her skin. They could be inconspicuously covered up with the designer clothes he lavished upon her. He always spared her face. She was his arm candy, the perfect trophy wife, and he wanted her beauty intact for the world to marvel upon.

The blood, however, he frowned upon. It didn't concern him that he had hurt enough to scratch her blood vessels. It bothered him to see blood stains that would be hard to wash off and he really loved that bed spread.

"Get up and clean yourself." He muttered.

She knew better than to argue with him. With an incredible amount of effort, she propped herself up. Her groins hurt and the floor shook beneath her jelly-like legs. But Carol didn't dare express her pain or complain. It would only arouse a stronger desire in Sean and she didn't think she had the ability to bear any more that day. Wincing with every step she took, she managed to walk herself to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and only then allowed herself to weep.

* * *

Sean walked quietly into his study. That was one room he didn't allow _anyone_ to enter, not even the servants for cleaning. A key and a code, both of which were exclusive to him, were required to gain access into the room.

The study was huge, lined with concentric rows of bookshelves. A workstation stood at its center. The computer, his files, diskettes and loose papers were neatly arranged atop the Oak wood. He loved cleanliness. He planned and ordered everything in his life.

Seating himself on the huge leather chair, Sean typed into his computer. A secure but anonymous email client – a well-used service by many people from the Intelligence to Terrorists – popped up. He had three new mails.

One was a receipt from his account at the Caymans notifying him of a successful deposit of $10 million.

The second was a potential business deal. The life of an Israeli diplomat would gain him 20 mils. Of course, he planned to bargain. He surmised the end deal could stretch to around 25, maybe even more.

The third was from his contact in San Francisco, a warden at the California State Mental Facility.

There had been another incident regarding his mother. The doctors would undoubtedly send a letter to the fake address he had provided. The warden ensured he was kept up-to-date on his mother's condition.

Almost ten years ago, he had hired the best defense lawyers to reopen his father's murder case. With the help of some tear-jerking testimonies and fabricated psych evaluations, Laura Sidle had been judged mentally incapable. She was transferred from death row into an asylum where Sean planned to keep her as long as he thought was necessary.

He tapped his knuckles against the polished wood. Things were just starting to get interesting for him here and he was reluctant to leave everything and go to San Francisco. But then, it was his _mother_. There was no question that he would help her, _wanted_ to help her.

He turned his attention to the properly stacked folder pile. Slowly he sorted through them.

"A. J. Skinny… Rehmat Al Khurshid… Moses Harberg… Vivian Cole… Yin Ja Kim… Sara Sid… aah!" Sean picked up the last one with almost reverent care. "Sara Sidle."

Pictures were laminated on the left side. The right side contained notes in his beautiful, cursive handwriting. He had the most information about his sister from their early years, when they were still a family, and the past six years. Only scattered clippings and pictures told him anything about the period in between. He filled in the blanks with his painfully gathered anecdotal details. He bribed his way past the security guards in Child Services to visiting all the Foster homes where Sara had housed one time or the other. He spoke to her high school teachers and college professors. Two dinners with the ME at the San Francisco Crime Lab had told him all about her early days in the forensic career.

But he wasn't satisfied with just skimming the surface. He knew all about her relationships, little as they were. Her friends, her rivals and her lovers. People she had cared about and people she couldn't stand. People for whom she would do anything and people she would give anything to forget. That is how he had stumbled upon Rachel… er… Courtney Andrews.

Manipulating Courtney wasn't a difficult task. He had learnt a valuable lesson in his business: where drugs worked, money and guns didn't. Some people just need to be tempted by a tiny pack of white powder and they'll do absolutely anything you want. Poor Sara. She thought she could make a clean person out of her friend. Noble intention it was. He truly gave her credit for it. What Sara hadn't counted on was that her friend didn't want to be saved. She only wanted to return to that ecstasy, no pun intended.

Poisoning Courtney's mind had been the first step in his Grand Plan. Already clouded by drugs, vines of malintent crept into her heart. Very soon, he had her agreeing into blowing Catherine Willows off.

By then, he had established a close informer within the ranks of the LV Crime Lab, Janet Simmons. He had a sword dangling over her - a video proving her brief stint as a, uh, porn actress. Coming from a respectable family of doctors and politicians, she would do anything to keep that video secret. _Anything_.

He leant back and took in the sharp tang of leather. He always found it so amusing how everyone had vulnerabilities, a skeleton in their picket-fenced backyard. Returning his attention back towards the folder, he flipped open to a large photograph dominating an entire page. His sister was there, holding hands with Catherine Willows. They were dressed casually in bathing suits. Unbeknownst to them, a paid photographer had been taking their pictures. They were laughing over a shared joke. She looked very happy, a state-of-mind that hadn't been hers for most of her life. A pang of jealousy filled him.

The next few pages had similar candid shots of Sara with Catherine. Sometimes they were accompanied by the young girl, Lindsay. He felt the familiar rage bottle up inside him. He wanted to tear them out and throw them into the fire. But he controlled himself and later he was pleased with his restraint, an essential skill he had cultivated over the years.

"Signore Sidle."

Sean looked up to find Victor half-hidden in the shadows of the doorway. Victor was his chauffeur, his right-hand man. The guy never bothered him unless it was necessary.

"Victor, problema?"

"Si, Signore. Problema grande."

"What's wrong?" Sean didn't like the look on his man's face.

* * *

Sara drifted in and out of unconsciousness, like a pendulum oscillates under the force of gravity. She saw an endless sequence of events flash in front of her: Lindsay smiling on top of a rollercoaster, the paramedics covering her face with an oxygen mask, Catherine holding her hand, the passing of Las Vegas streets through the window, Sean in his multi-million dollar mansion, the doctors and nurses speaking in urgent tones, Grissom amidst his eight-legged friends, Sofia murmuring words of encouragement, her lab colleagues watching her with anxiety, her lab colleagues teasing her in the lab. After a while, it became impossible for her to determine what was real and what was not. All the different sounds blurred into one combined buzz. Through it, she could only hear someone whispering "Catherine" over and over again.

The anesthesiologist looked at the surgeon in charge. "Who's Catherine?"

"Who?" The doctor questioned absently. His concentration was fixed on the abnormally spiking vitals.

"Catherine. She's saying her name."

He paused for a second, long enough to listen to Sara's softly moving lips. "Yeah, she is. Must be someone dear."

Sara only heard "Catherine" echoing in her mind before she slipped into a deep oblivion.

* * *


	32. Chapter Thirty One

**Chapter Thirty One**

Sara stepped onto a pristine white beach whose sands were being lapped by gentle baby blue waves. A golden-haired angel stood smiling at her.

"Wow, this is heaven, isn't it?"

Of all the things Catherine expected, that didn't come anywhere close. She leant forward, "Sara?"

"I have to admit I never quite imagined Heaven to be like… this." She looked around.

"Sara, can you hear me?"

Sara tried to block the noises pulling her away from this paradise. The angel extended her hand and she reached out for it. The touch was so soft her fingers almost fell past it.

"Sara, honey, open your eyes."

The angel moved her lips, but no voice emerged. Only a faint hum followed. Sara was captivated by the tune and the magnetic pair of eyes in which she could see the ocean reflected.

"Doctor! Someone page a doctor! Oh, Sara, can you hear me?"

She didn't know how far, or for how long, she walked. The water felt warm as it rippled against her skin. She was only vaguely aware of her legs sinking deeper and deeper into the weight of the ocean. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the marvel in front of her. Hair, the color of Daffodils, blew all around the face that seemed to have been designed by an artist but carved on spring breeze. The mesmerizing tune only enhanced the allure.

"Sweetie, wake up, please wake up."

The water was now chest level and she felt its density crushing against her lungs. She was also aware of a burning down in her throat and her muscles constricting to try to relieve the pressure. But that discomfort couldn't match up to the intense bliss she felt at that moment. She wanted to let go and just follow her dazzling companion. As she waded further and further away from shore, she felt her worries seep out from her. It felt so nice to allow herself to be led into the unknown, the glimpse of which was beautiful.

"Catherine." She whispered, smiling up at the face in front of her.

"Yes, honey, I'm here. I'm with you. Please don't leave me."

"Catherine?" Sara frowned, as her angel ahead began to quiver and then morphed structure. The hair darkened and the figure broadened. With a start, she saw a man, rugged and nasty looking, pointing a gun at her. The quiet serenity of the Eden-like surroundings was shattered with screams and ear-deafening shots.

"Sara, hold on. Hold on, my love, please."

The ocean swallowed her up and she was dragged into its fathomless abyss. She tried to fight but her arms felt weak. A huge part of her wanted to succumb into that lethargy and give up.

"Honey, I love you. Do you hear that? I love you and you have to come back for me. You have to come back for Lindsay. You can't leave us, you can't give up."

_Love… Lindsay… Catherine_

The words flowed through her like a spark of current. She flailed her arms and let it collide against the fluid drag. With all her strength, she paddled her legs and swung her arms to thrust her body upwards. She could see the sunlight glitter on the surface and she aimed for it. She felt cold and tired, but didn't give up the battle. She was aware of how little progress she was making as the surface looked as distant as ever. But motivated by that singular voice in her head, she buoyed herself through the heaviness. Her eyes itched and salt scoured her tongue.

"Please don't leave me. I fought because I wanted to come back you. Now you have to come back to me."

And suddenly, there was brightness. But there was also a deep silence punctuated only by computerized noises and dripping. She surveyed the strained faces standing above her.

"Sara?"

She turned around and was momentarily caught unawares at the person leaning over her. Sara blinked several times. "Catherine? Is it you?"

"Yes, yes." Catherine struggled to keep both the happiness and the anxiety at bay. "You're okay?"

"I… what happened? Where… where am I?"

"You're here, with me."

* * *

"You better drink it." Sofia pushed the glass towards Rocky. He just glared back at her. 

"Go to hell, bitch."

"If I were you, I'd advise my client to put a lid on the language. He's just screwing up whatever chance he has for cutting a deal." Sofia glanced towards a weary-looking defense lawyer.

"She's right, Daniel."

"Fuck off, moron. You're supposed to help me, not let some whiny bitch tell ya what to do." Rocky spat. "And the name's Rocky, for the _record_."

"Alright, I've had enough. You are wasting my time and I have better things to do. So counselor, you better ask your client to speak up or else the deal is off and he's looking at a long walk towards the needle."

The man leant towards Rocky and whispered into his ear. The perp scowled heavily and flexed his biceps. "You sure about that?"

"I am, Rocky."

"Fine." Rocky cast Sofia a wary look. "I'll tell ya everything, but you havta promise me some protection. My ass is toast if the guy finds out I copped."

"I'm promising nothing until I hear what you have to say."

Rocky let out a deep breath. "His name's Sean, Sean Sidle."

"Sidle?" Sofia's eyebrows rose up to her hairline.

"I don't know the guy, alright? He just gave me a lotta dough to pick up that blonde and keep her safe in that cabin. I never meant to hurt her, honest."

"And what about the officer you shot at?"

"That was a fucking accident."

"You shot at two people. One is dead and the other is in the hospital under critical condition. Stop messing around with me."

"Man, I swear I'm tellin' the truth. I just freaked, alright? I mean, this Sean, he's a scary fucker. If he knew I let those two escape, he'd kill me."

"So you just shot an officer and a CSI. Just like that." Sofia's eyes hardened. "Did he say why he wanted you to kidnap Catherine Willows?"

"Well, he said he wanted to have some fun with his sister."

"His sister?"

"Sara Sidle… or somethin'." He rubbed his forehead. "Man, I'm in deep shit. He's gonna fry me when he knows I whacked her."

"Sara's his sister?"

"Ain't you listening to a word I said?" He grunted in frustration. "If he knows what I've done, I'm not gonna be safe, not even in lockup. You know what, I ain't tellin' you no more unless you promise me some help."

Sofia looked towards the mirror, hoping the question in her eyes correctly transmitted across.

* * *

Brass nodded, despite knowing that Sofia couldn't see him. Beside him, he could hear Warrick shifting from one foot to the other. 

"What's this about Sara having a brother?" His darkly handsome face creased with bafflement.

"I don't remember her mentioning a brother." Brass replied. "But then again, I don't think she's ever talked about her family. Not to me, at least."

Even as they spoke, Brass' men were scavenging the databases for any information on a Sean Sidle. Time was precious and their need desperate.

"Grissom would know."

"Or Catherine."

At the mention of their blonde coworker's name, they found themselves speechless. Everything seemed to have gone suspended into a fantastical dimension. If not for their impending duty to find the underlying cause of this whole mess, they would have spent more time just reveling in the idea that Catherine was alive and back. But right then, their work was top priority and they needed to focus on that.

Warrick balled his fists as he felt another surge of anger rise through him. He wanted to thrash the punk in that questioning room and he probably would have done it had it not been for the strict warning from Grissom and a hawk-like watch from Brass. Not only was the guy responsible for keeping Catherine in captivity for so many days, in who-knows-what-condition, but he had also shot Sara and a police officer.

"Hey, Brass?" A uniformed officer walked up from behind his Captain.

"Yeah?" Brass didn't turn around.

"We searched criminal records, health records, firearm sales, SSN registries, anything and everything. There has been no match for a Sean Sidle. The only thing we could get, though, is a Birth Certificate. It states that Sean is the son of Gordon and Laura Sidle, born 1965. Other than that, this guy doesn't exist."

"And what are we doing about the leads from the doctor?"

Almost as soon as Brass asked the question, an officer sprinted up to him.

"Captain, bad news."

"Shit, what?" Warrick leant forward, hoping against hope that it wasn't about Sara.

"We found the cabin as indicated by Dr. Mkibo, but…"

"But?" Brass stared at the nervous man.

"It was burnt down."

Warrick and Brass exchanged a look.

"We've got CSI Stokes and Sanders heading that way, trying to get something outta there. But with the desert temperature, the place burnt up pretty bad."

"Just what we needed, another piece of evidence blowing up in thin air." Warrick slammed his palm against the glass.

* * *

**Damn, I HATE Writer's Block. But hopefully I've hammered it down to fine powder. Thanks for the reviews and the reading!**


	33. Chapter Thirty Two

**Chapter Thirty Two**

There were times when Lindsay, like any other teenager with emerging self-identity issues, actively rebelled against her mother. Swallowed curses, muttered complaints, teary pouts, long periods of silent treatments and slammed doors were just some of the common weekly occurrences. If the arrival of Sara had somewhat mellowed the adolescent contempt, it had also brought with itself a new problem. In her kindergarten years, the kids snickered behind her back and called her the daughter of a stripper. None of the kids, including her, knew what it really meant, but their developing minds recognized the insult. Then her Mom had her transferred into a private school. Things were getting better until that devastating night when her father died. Her preppy, old-money classmates who used to find it "cool that your Mom's a cop", now detested her because they found out her Dad was a good-for-nothing, philandering junkie. Though, with time those gossips faded away too.

But when Sara moved into their house, she faced a new challenge. At first, it started with malicious whispers and then extended into open mockery. Those she could handle, as she had been doing for so many years. But when, for the first time, her teachers joined the bandwagon, Lindsay felt alone.

"_Lindsay, it has come to our attention that your mother… well, that things are not quite alright in your family." Her Math teacher, Mrs. Biggs murmured. In other words, she wanted to say, "I've come to know that your Mom's a dyke."_

"_Things are perfectly cool." Lindsay defied with her strong Willows air._

"_So, how's your Mom and her bitch?" Jake Thompson, the school heartthrob taunted._

"_Hey Lindz, did you ever kiss a girl?"_

"_Yo Lindz, how about a threesome?"_

"_I've always wondered why she's never had a boyfriend."_

"_She doesn't strike as the butch type to me." Maria, the head cheerleader frowned._

"_Well, didn't you hear of a lipstick lesbian?"_

Lindsay never told her mother about the troubles in school. She hurt inside and sometimes she wished that her family was like any other family in school – a Dad, a Mom, a loud-mouth brother and maybe a dog.

And then she'll see how happy her mother is and how changed everything at home was becoming. But more than anything, she realized how complete she felt. Sara, whom she adored as her best friend, made everything wonderful and that was when Lindsay understood that it didn't matter what her narrow-minded classmates and teachers thought. This was her family and it couldn't be wrong when it felt so right.

Lindsay wondered if it was because of this goodwill that she had been granted the biggest of miracles.

She didn't know where Uncle Grissom wanted her to go, but she didn't ask. Recently, everyday seemed to fade into each other without her being aware. There were plenty of condolences and nice words passed on to her daily, but she had soon gotten to a point where they didn't affect her at all. All she wanted was to stay with Sara and she was looking forward to when she could do that permanently.

However, she had become slightly concerned when Uncle Grissom led her into the hospital. She couldn't – didn't want to – imagine anything worse than what had already happened.

That is why when she saw Sara lying on the bed, in an obviously hurt state, Lindsay found her world breaking around her. She was so focused on the brunette that she failed to pay heed to the woman beside.

"Lindsay?"

The voice sounded so familiar that she knew she had already begun to hear things.

"Lindsay?" Louder, this time.

She gave a quick glance sideways and then back to Sara only to double back.

"Mom!"

"Lindsay, honey?" Catherine slowly knelt down, holding herself with considerable effort from taking her daughter in her arms.

"Mom!"

"Honey, say something."

Lindsay realized that she had been shouting only in her mind, but her tongue had remained mute. She swallowed hard. "Mom?"

Catherine smiled. "Lindsay, sweetie."

"Mom, is it you? Is it _really_ you?"

"It is, Lindz."

"This is not a joke, right?" The girl's big eyes clouded over. "Coz I won't be able to handle it. Tell me the truth. Are you my Mom?"

Catherine took Lindsay's hand and placed it near to her heart. "Lindz, it's your Mom. It's me."

"How…" She began, not sure which question to ask. There were so many _hows_ running through her mind.

"Later, sweetie." Catherine linked her fingers through her daughter's hair and noticed how limp it had gotten. She also took note of the sallow complexion and dark circles. Her heart wrenched as she tried to imagine the torture her Lindsay must have endured.

"You are back? You are here? I can't believe this." Lindsay began to shiver, both from overwhelming joy and a sense of fear that this might all be a dream.

"I know and I promise I'll explain everything to you."

The young girl lifted her hand and ran her fingers tentatively across Catherine's face. She half waited for the illusion to disappear beneath her probing touch. But when all she encountered were warm flesh and the familiar feel of her mother, the blissful reality settled in. In an instant, she threw her arms around the woman she thought she had lost forever.

"Mom, I'll do my homework on time and I won't watch TV during weeknights. I'll not pester you for new clothes and definitely not for Hilary Duff's latest album. I'll clean my room whenever you ask me to and I'll tear up those posters you hate so much. I'll never talk back to you and I'll always listen to whatever you have to say." Lindsay choked back a sob. "But, please, don't ever leave me again."

Catherine kissed the top of her daughter's head. "Honey, I love you. And don't you worry about that poster. I know I say it's hideous, but Orlando Bloom is kinda cute."

* * *

Sara watched as mother and daughter cherished this reunion. She could barely conceal her own happiness and had it not been for the still lingering ache in her torso, she would have ripped apart all the various tubes and rushed to her girls. 

Instead she took a moment to try and critically analyze the situation. From what she had gathered through a brief conversation with Catherine, her kidnappers had kept her in relative comfort. Sara couldn't really understand why someone would go to elaborate lengths to keep Catherine hidden while proclaiming her dead to the world. Money didn't seem to be the obvious motive and neither did harming Catherine in any way.

Just as she was ruminating, Grissom walked in. She noticed, for the first time since the whole calamity started, how changed he looked. His face had gone gaunt and the already grayed hair was now liberally snowed. A decade seemed to have been added upon him. He smiled when he saw Catherine with Lindsay and it took off some of the strain from his features. The smile quickly disappeared when he walked towards her. Those intellectual eyes were dead serious.

"How are you feeling?" He asked Sara.

"Better." She croaked out.

"I could cheerfully throttle that bastard who did this to you."

"Grissom, I'm fine." She laid a hand on his arm. "Did you find anything from him?"

"He tried to plead out to Sofia, but the DA has no sympathy for him and neither will the Judge. Though, we did manage to get some information."

"What?" She noticed how his eyes were evading hers.

"He told us a name."

"A name?"

"I did some background search on the man and so did Brass. Brass even spoke to some of his contacts in the gang world and…"

"Grissom, who's it?"

He sighed. "Sean Sidle."

Sara was surprised that she wasn't surprised. Sure, she's had a vague suspicion. That was why she had been out there that day. But she hadn't really wanted to believe that her own brother could be involved. However, now she realized that somewhere inside, she did believe.

She gulped down a lump. "So, what are we doing about him?"

"Right now, we just have Rocky's testimony and no evidence to back up. In court and with Rocky's rep, it won't go too far. But we are keeping tracks on the guy. Trouble is we don't have anything about him other than a forty year old birth certificate."

"I know where he lives." Sara stated passively.

"What?" Grissom moved back in shock. "You've been in contact with him? For how long?"

"Around the time that Catherine… that we thought she died."

He pinched his forehead to try and numb the headache. "Why didn't you tell anyone about it?"

"He was just a brother trying to get in touch with his sister." She grimaced. "Or so I thought. I never made the connection. There was no reason to."

"No, you are right." Grissom took out his pager. "We'll have Brass get the man for some questioning. We might not get a warrant but an address will give us a point to start."

* * *

Sofia took in the affluence of the neighborhood with disdain. This was a part of the city that housed the rich, the famous and the known corrupted. The problem was that their wealth was as much for display as for greasing. Nobody touched them. They were beyond the limits of the law enforcement. 

Sean Sidle, registered as Sheridan Hastings, owned the property that was easily in the 95th percentile of the upscale estates in the region. She recognized the Moorish motifs in the architecture and the neatly planted palms that gave the place a Mediterranean aura. The sculpted nudes, their genitals exposed for all to see, appeared to smirk at the approaching officers.

Sofia felt the reassurance of her gun slung by the hip. She couldn't appear threatening, especially not without a legal warrant. But it always felt good to know that her weapon wasn't far from reach.

A junior officer pressed the doorbell and rapped the brass knocker. They could hear the noise echo inside. After the third unsuccessful try, Sofia neared closer to the door.

"Mr. Hastings?" She shouted. There was no reply.

"Great. He's not home."

"Maybe we should have set up an appointment." A female officer, known for her strange sarcasm, remarked.

The uniforms were just about to return to their vehicles when they heard a soft, but unmistakable, thud from inside.

"Think it's the cat?" The same woman asked.

Sofia's eyes darted right and left before she went back to the front door. She knocked again and this time yelled aloud. "Mr. Hastings, are you there? This is the LVPD. Please open the door."

The only reply was a weak groan from inside.

"You think the bastard's got someone there with him?"

"We are full within our rights to conduct a rescue, right?"

"If we find something… or someone… in there. Yeah."

"Let's get in." Sofia instructed, after calculating the risks.

For an expensive house, the door was remarkably weak. The officers broke through it without much effort. Guns leveled ahead and senses sharpened, Sofia led her team through the plush foyer.

"Grant, you take the basement. Miree, downstairs. I'll go up." Sofia whispered.

Her feet sank into the inches thick carpet as she proceeded her way up the spiraling staircase. The smell of crushed Eucalyptus greeted her nostrils, but along with it was also the stench of something gruesome. Of something evil.

She noticed the pristine condition in which everything was arranged. Not a single speck of dust rested upon the several-thousand-dollar worth of artifacts.

The master bedroom had the magnificent exoticism of a Sheikh's harem. It was one huge area. An expansive bed, sheathed in Oriental silk, adorned the middle. Chaise lounges were comfortably snug atop Persian rugs. Torches, instead of conventional lamps, provided illumination. Though, unlike its ancient counterparts, these were fuelled by electricity. Tapestries, regal emblems painted or stitched on them, hung heavily from the walls. The fragrance of the Eucalyptus now had to battle with various other enticing spicy aromas.

Sofia was so caught by the breathtaking beauty of the place that she momentarily didn't notice the blood stains. It was only when her glance moved downwards that she saw the ugly spatter across the otherwise spotless beige carpet.

Following its trail, she went towards the bathroom. The air was getting heavier with the coppery taste of bleeding and she went back into her investigative mode.

Nothing, however, prepared her for the sight. Her fingers almost slackened its grip on the gun when she saw the badly mutilated corpse lying on the tiled floor. The neck was snapped to a forty five degree angle. Blood had already oozed out from the various slashed wounds on the naked body. The eyes were wide open, as if her killer had forced her to witness the horror of what was happening before mercifully ending her life.

Sofia knelt by the body, taking care to not disturb the scene but also feeling a need to shut those dead eyes.

Her trance was broken when she heard another muffled sound. She spun around abruptly, trying to gather any presence in the room. Teeth clenched and every muscle prepared, she hoisted herself up.

"Who's there? This is the LVPD! Show yourself!"

Silence.

"I know you are here. Come out!"

A small sob.

Sofia cocked her head and looked towards the bed. She cautiously walked towards it and with one fluid movement she bent under and lifted the sheets.

"What the f- !" She exclaimed. A woman was snuck inside the cramped space. She was trembling as hard as a leaf in a storm.

"Hey, I'm Detective Curtis." Sofia reached out her hand. "You can come out."

"No, no, he's there. He'll find me. He'll kill me." Those eyes were completely glazed from fear.

"Nobody's here. It's just me." Sofia gestured with her hands again. "I'm here to help you. Nothing's going to happen to you."

"Sean. Sean. He'll find me. He'll kill me." The woman repeated in a chant.

Sofia glided her lean frame through the space. "I'm the police and I'm going to protect you. We'll find Sean so that he can never harm you again. You trust me, okay? Come, it's going to be alright."

"Y-you are the police? You'll help me? You won't let him kill me?" The woman questioned, hopefully.

"I won't."

"You promise?"

Sofia let her fingers touch the woman's cheek. Surprisingly, she didn't flinch. "I promise."

Reassured by the blonde detective's words and soothing touch, Carmel slowly crept out of her hiding. As soon as she appeared in the open, fright made her latch on to the woman, as if reaching out for a lifeboat.

"Hey, you are safe. Nothing will happen, alright?" Sofia soothed her still quivering form.

Carmel buried her face into the woman's shoulders and let the tears and soul-wracking cries escape her.

* * *

**I know you hate me for the late update. My prodigal muse has returned and the following chapters will be much regular, I promise :) Meanwhile, thanks for sticking to it and reading!**


	34. Chapter Thirty Three

**This chapter's going to have some violence. You've been warned.**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Thirty Three**

Grissom watched from a distance as Nick spoke to Lady Heather and another woman who was presumably Kayla Dreyson. He had never been good at breaking bad news to the families. He doubted he'd be able to do it in front of Heather.

Kayla buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Lady Heather placed her arm around her friend's shoulder while her eyes rested towards the shadows where he was staying out of sight. Somehow she always seemed to sense his presence. It both unsettled and pleased him.

They had matched the unidentified remains of a body to the DNA sample that Kayla had provided of her sister. It was clear that she was the person whom everyone in the department store had seen that day of the explosion. She was the person whom everyone had assumed was Catherine.

Greg tapped his boss with his index finger, causing him to jump.

"Uh, Grissom, why are you hiding?" The spiky-haired CSI smirked.

"I'm not hiding." He cleared his throat and glanced at the file Greg was holding. "You got something for me?"

"With the permission of her sister, we did a background check on Joyce Dreyson. She's been convicted for possession on two prior occasions. On the third one, she escaped Texas. She was probably working for cash because all her deposits are direct cash ones. According to Kayla, she worked in Sam Braun's casino and for the last few months, the deposits have been pretty regular pay. But a week prior to the explosion, there was a deposit of around five grand in her account. Pretty big in one time, if you ask me."

"Pretty small payment for getting blown up." Grissom remarked dryly.

"Maybe she didn't know she was going to die." Greg lifted his eyebrows. "Maybe she was being paid to impersonate Catherine in that store. They wouldn't include getting exploded in the contract, would they?"

Grissom frowned, "Okay, if that was what had happened, then how did we find Catherine's DNA amongst the rubble? According to her, she wasn't even near it."

"I think I may have an answer to that." Ecklie's voice boomed.

"Conrad?" Grissom gave him a skeptical look which turned into a heavy scowl when he saw the assistant director holding the squirming young CSI, Janet Simmons, firmly. "What's going on?"

"Our evidence log was tampered with. Wendy first brought it to my attention. When we had it checked, we realized that one of the results was directly taken from the database and not a sample. In other words, Ms. Simmons here, accessed Catherine's profile from our records and simply copied and pasted. Catherine's DNA was never on the site."

Grissom stared at Ecklie and then at Janet. "Why?" He addressed his question to her.

"We'll have IA question her up on that." Ecklie shot her a menacing glare. "But playing with evidence isn't fun, young lady. Rest assured, it's your career down the drain."

Janet looked scared. She looked regretful. But her face didn't carry an inch of remorse. Grissom turned away, repulsed. "Take her away."

"Mr. Grissom, only those who have been as privileged as you can pass judgments." Janet retorted bitterly, before being led away by Ecklie.

He watched her leave.

* * *

Sofia stood up when the psychiatrist emerged from inside the ward. 

"How's she?"

"She's still terribly traumatized, but I've given her some tranquilizers. That should help her for now."

"Is she ready to talk?"

"Yes, but do not tax her too much." The doctor cautioned. "There is one more thing, though. I noticed several bruises on her back."

"She was most likely abused." Sofia gritted her teeth.

Carmel was propped against several pillows. Her legs were folded close to her body and her arms were wrapped around her knees in a protective way. The tranquilizers seemed to have stopped the shivering, but it didn't take away the haunted look from her face. Despite that, Sofia noticed how incredibly beautiful the woman was. Long black hair had the sheen of midnight. Beneath the pallor of the trauma, the olive complexion layered soft features. Her leanness was complemented by supple, feminine curves.

"Hi." Sofia mustered a smile as warm as possible.

Carmel jerked, as if half expecting something terrible. She visibly relaxed when she saw it was only Sofia. "Hi." She greeted back.

After getting on with the usual polite generalities, Sofia came right down to business. "I'm Detective Curtis. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

The woman gave her a look that she couldn't quite decipher. "You are the one who rescued me. It's the least I can do."

Sofia cleared her throat and pulled up a nearby chair. "How do you know Sh- Sheridan Hastings?"

"I'm his wife."

"And do you know the woman we found in the bedroom?"

Carmel swallowed. "No. But I have seen her by the house a couple of times."

"If this next question troubles you too much then tell me." Sofia leant forward. "Did you see what happened?"

"Yes."

The fear seemed to be returning to the woman's face. Sofia touched her reassuringly. She knew, by being in this service for so long, that officers seek these kind of opportunities to question witnesses. Still in the aftereffects of what they had sighted, these people were more likely to tell the truth compared to later when they had reasoned all the pros and cons of speaking to the police. Often the questions had the worst kind of effect on these people. Reliving the horror snaps all the threads holding them together. Committed to her duty, Sofia knew she should press. But for some strange reason, she found herself empathizing with this victimized woman strongly.

"If you don't want to talk about it now…" Sofia began.

"No." Carmel cut in softly. "I want to talk about it. I can't remain silent. Not anymore."

---

_Carmel_ _hadn't felt so happy in years. For the first time, Sean had allowed her to go somewhere on her own. She had spent a blissful day as Lena_'_s accompanying parent on a school trip. It had been fun, and freeing, to be with so many children and their parents. For many kids, both parents had been present. Carmel_ _was only intensely relieved that Sean hadn't insisted on going along. He had seemed strangely preoccupied the past few days. She didn't know why, but she knew better than to ask. _

_The trip had to be concluded abruptly due to a thunderstorm warning. The teachers didn't want the kids drenched. Like many other classmates, Lena_ _had been cross that their trip was spoiled. To make up for it, Mrs. Dobson, the mother of Lena_'_s best friend, offered to have the children at her house for a while. Lena_'_s pleading eyes had decided it for Carmel, even though she knew she was going to get a handful from Sean. _

_Carmel was thinking of varied excuses and lies to spin as she approached the front porch, when she noticed the back gates open. _

"_This is strange." She thought. Sean had strict orders regarding security. She knew the servants would face his ill temper when he discovers this small breach, so she hurriedly went to close it. _

_She saw a car parked close to gates. Sean had a visitor._

_She had an unexpectedly reckless idea. The mansion was built with hidden passageways to all the important rooms from the outside. Why it was constructed as such, she didn't know. But she had found it particularly useful when she just wanted to avoid her husband for the entire day. If he didn't see her, he was less likely to be aroused to violate her. _

_She thought of taking one of these routes to the bedroom, getting some cash and indulging herself with some shopping spree. The brief moments of independence were worth Sean's wrath if he found out, and find out he will. But he abused her regardless of whether she ever did anything wrong or not. _

_She had just finished stuffing her handbag when she heard the unmistakable sounds of someone coming up the stairs. Her gaze dashed to the passageway and she realized she didn't have enough time to escape. She did the next best thing and ducked underneath the massive bed. Sean rarely used the bedroom other than to satisfy his sadistic desires. It wasn't likely he would stay there long without her._

"_Sean, baby, I'm so sorry. I'm really sorry. You know that, right?" A female voice purred._

"_You have really disappointed me, Kristen. I had such high hopes from you. You were so promising."_

"_I know, baby, I know." Kristen sobbed. "How can I make it up to you?" _

_Carmel saw them both enter the bedroom, her bedroom.Sean sighed. "I wish I could remain angry with you, Kristen. But you are still my number one. It's just this time you've really saddened me. I always thought you so competent, so ready to do anything to succeed." _

_"I am, Sean, love." Kristen ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair. "I promise I won't ever let you down again. You know I love you, right?" _

_"Yes." He exhaled. "I know that. Come here." _

_Kristen moaned as he wrenched apart the shirt she wore. He grabbed her close to him and kissed her heavily, even as his hands undressed and groped her. _

_"Oh, Sean, baby, my baby. I love you, so much." She gasped when his teeth played with her naked nipple. _

_Carmel shrunk further inside while her husband and the woman approached the bed. She felt the bed frame strike against her back as they collapsed on the mattress. She bit back a yelp. _

_"My love, my love." Kristen repeated, in the throes of passion. _

_"Yes, I know, Kristen. I'm your love. I'm your only love." Sean murmured in glee. _

_Carmel couldn't see what was happening, but she heard the tearing of fabric, the wet noises of mouths hungrily seeking flesh and the carnal groans of sex. _

_"You like this, Kristen?" Sean grunted and Carmel felt the bed shake. _

_"Yes, yes." Kristen whispered throatily. "I like this." _

_"And this?"_

_"Yes, more. God, Sean, more, yes!" _

_"How about this?"_

_"Yes… aah! Sean!" _

_"And this?"_

_"Sean!" _

_"This? This?" _

_"God! You are hurting me!" _

_"Kristen, my bitch, how do you like this?" _

_"You crazy bastard, get off me!"_

_"Oh you like this, don't you? Don't you, my darling?" _

_"No, I don't like this! Let me go!" _

_Carmel winced as she heard the cries of pain. She had heard it so many times, from her own lips. _

_And then the weight relaxed suddenly. Every fiber in her tensed when she saw the woman leap out from the bed onto the floor. She tried to move further back into the shadows, if it was possible. _

_"Sean, what do you think you are doing?" Kristen screamed, covering her bare chest with her hands. _

_"Filthy whore! All of you, all of you are just the same." Sean taunted. "You can never handle real sex with a real man." _

_"Don't come near me." Kristen crawled backwards with her elbows. _

_But it didn't take too long for Sean to tower over her and grab a fistful of her hair. She yelled out aloud and Carmel thought her bones would crack with the sound. _

_"You failed me, bitch! You failed me! And nobody fails Sean!" He pulled her up, just by her hair. Her hands tried to fight, but in vain. _

_"Sean, please, I'm sorry. I said I was sorry." Kristen began crying now. _

_"Sorry, eh? Sorry?" With his free hand he gave her a hard slap. A trickle of blood oozed out from her nose. _

_"You are a failure! A fucking, miserable failure! Why shouldn't I punish you, huh? Tell me. Give me a good reason." _

_"Please, baby, I love you. Please don't do this." Tears and blood began to run down Kristen's face. _

_"Nehhh… I'm sorry, that was the wrong answer." He slapped her again. Carmel saw him reach towards his prized dagger collection and pick out the smallest piece. The blade was just over six inches long, but its wicked gleam left no doubt about its effectiveness. She had scars to prove as much. _

_Kristen's eyes widened in horror as she noticed the weapon. "Sean, Sean, what are you doing? What the fuck are you doing?" _

_"I don't know." He frowned and then grinned. "Planning to cut you up, maybe?" _

_"No!" Every ounce of self-preservation in her shouted out. "Don't do this. I beg of you! Spare me, Sean! Have mercy!" _

_"Begging? Ah, beg then." He threw her down to his feet. "Grovel like a worm and BEG!" _

_She caught hold of his ankles and whimpered. "Please, Sean, let me go. I'll do anything you want. I'll never fail you again. I promise. Don't do this, please, please!" _

_"Say you are my slave." He demanded. _

_"I'm your slave." _

_"Say you are my whore." _

_She choked. "I'm your whore, Sean. I'll forever be your whore. Just please let me go." _

_"Say you'll do anything to please me." _

_"I'll do anything to please you. Whatever you desire." _

_"Even if it means you need to be butchered." _

_"Sean! No!" She held on to his feet and kissed it, not caring for the revulsion. "Please, no! No!" _

_"What a liar." He shook his head sadly. "Sean doesn't like liars. Sean cannot tolerate failures and liars. You are both. What can Sean do? You've left him with no choice." _

_He took her by her fragile neck and lifted her up. "Sean wants you to see what he does to you. Sean wants you to feel your perfect little body being carved into tiny, tiny, tiny pieces." He brought his face so close to her that she could see into the dark pits of his eyes. "Sean wants you to feel more pain than you could ever imagine." _

_"Sean… please." Her wails were hopeless. There was no pleading with the Devil; she knew that now. She could only pray that her death would be swift and she wouldn't suffer. _

_But he wasn't ready to offer her even that. He snapped her neck and immediately her body went limp. She was paralyzed of motion, but not of sensation. He licked his lips in delight and began the methodical mutilation. The round breasts, the flat abdomen, the thighs still wet from sex, the genitals swollen by his violent thrusts, the long creamy legs, the elegant hands and finally the face. Before slashing her face, he saw into her eyes. She was still alive, still breathing, and aware of every humiliating torture. Her eyes reflected the agony and the distress of someone who couldn't conjure a worse Hell. As possibly the last strain of life seeped out from her, Sean was finished. _

_--- _

Sofia wasn't aware of how tightly her hands were clenched together until she felt her nails dig into the softness of her palm. She lifted it and saw the red marks of pressure upon them. Her heart was pounding painfully in her rib cage and her muscles had turned to jelly.

Silent tears streamed down Carmel's face, which had gone ghostly white. Sofia couldn't even begin to comprehend what it must have been like to witness such brutality.

"C-Carmel?" Even a whisper took a considerable amount of effort.

"I have seen Sean do terrible things." Carmel said. "To me, especially. Every time he came near me, he ensured that I hurt. But I have never seen him kill anybody. Not like this. Not like a wild animal. I couldn't move after that. I was so afraid that he'll find me and he'll do the same thing to me."

She turned to look directly at Sofia. "I'm still afraid."

Sofia tried to offer some reassurance, but found she was empty of it. They were facing a monster, someone who was beyond any humanity or reproach. She felt too inadequate to offer any sense of protection to this woman.

"Why did you stay with him? Why didn't you come to the police?"

Carmel gave a sardonic smile. "Sean has gotten away with more crimes than you can count. I'm pretty sure your police doesn't even have a record of him. You think you'd be able to nail him for mere abuse? He would have walked free and he would have then hunted me down and punished me in the worst manner possible."

"What about yo… your daughter? Did he…" Sofia shuddered. "Did he abuse her too?"

"Oh, no, he loved Lena. She's one of the two people he truly loves. And besides, he isn't a pedophile. Kids don't interest him. But yes, I was afraid that once she grows up, he wouldn't deter from turning to her. Part of the reason I stayed."

"You could have taken Lena away with you. You were her mother. The court would have granted you some consideration."

"I'm not her mother." Carmel shook her head. "Sean and I married two years ago. Lena was conceived much, much before. As far as I know, I was his first marriage. Who her mother is or was, nobody knows."

She clasped her hands together. "But I loved Lena as my own daughter. Even if I somehow escaped, I couldn't take her with me. She would have been in the clutches of that beast, forever."

Sofia laid a hand over the woman's. "We found your daughter. She's in protective custody. Sean won't reach her."

Carmel looked up to meet her sky blue eyes and for the first time since they met she smiled. "Thank you, detective, for everything. For everything."

_

* * *

_

**I know, no Catherine and Sara in this chapter. Sorry. Thank you for the reviews, everyone :)**


	35. Chapter Thirty Four

**Chapter Thirty Four**

Everyone was in the break room. Sara sat with Warrick and Nick by her sides. Brass sat on the other side along with Sofia and Greg. Grissom and Catherine stood at the two opposite heads of the table. Catherine had refused any offer of a temporary leave and slipped back into her supervisor duties with ease. Even Sara hadn't wanted time off to recuperate. None could rest until the case was solved.

"So, here is what we do know." Warrick began. "Someone kidnapped Catherine and paid off her look-a-like to impersonate her."

"They could have easily gotten hold of my credit card when they abducted me." Catherine spoke. "I wish I could remember more of what happened, but I can't."

"Hey Cath, it's ok." Nick smiled at her benevolently.

"This girl, Joyce Dreyson, is wanted for possession in Texas. She might have been blackmailed, or just simply paid, to do the job. At this point we don't know." Brass muttered.

"Then we come to Courtney Andrews." Grissom put in. "Her real name is Rachel. She is fleeing from the gang world responsible for her husband's murder. Our evidence suggests that she was the one who had purchased the bomb materials and it was her car that had caused the explosion."

"Yeah, but except she died in it too." Greg pointed out. "Was it her intention to die all along?"

"Maybe not." Grissom gave Sara a sideways glance. "She doesn't strike as someone who had a death wish."

"So, there's someone who might have paid off both Rachel and Joyce." Warrick suggested. "They were both dopies. They might have needed drugs or money to buy drugs. It's easy to tempt someone who has an addiction into doing anything."

"We come to Sean." Catherine said. "He definitely had the money. Rocky pointed towards him as the boss and Sofia found Kristen in his house, dead. I remember Kristen as one of my abductors." Sara noticed how she paled at the memory.

"His wife had witnessed him killing Kristen." Sofia informed. "She also remembered Rocky stopping by their house many times."

"So, even if we all assume that it was Sean who is behind all this, there is still one problem." Brass stated. "We don't have a motive. Why kidnap Catherine, stage a bomb and her death?"

"Why keep me alive at all?" Catherine questioned. "He had no reason to. It would have been much easier to dispose off me. There would be lesser trails leading up to him."

"He wanted to see me suffer." Sara spoke for the first time. Everyone stopped to face her.

"Why would he want that? He's your brother." Nick reasoned.

"I don't know who he is. Not anymore." Sara murmured. "All I know is that there are way too many evidences pointing towards him and yet we don't have any clue where he is."

Ecklie cleared his throat from the doorway. "Guys, if I may have your attention."

"Yeah?"

"We have Special Agent Riley Bosco from the FBI here. He wants to speak to you." Ecklie looked at Grissom.

"The Feds?" Warrick scoffed. "What the hell do they want?"

"There's nothing he has to say to me that he can't say in front of my team." Grissom's tone had a finality in them.

"Ah, you must be Gil Grissom. I have heard a lot about you." A large, muscular man entered the break room from behind Ecklie. His suit was stretched tight across his bulky muscles. But for a man that big, there was a stealthy grace about him. His smile was polite but far from friendly. Here was a man who didn't tolerate nonsense at all. "Captain Brass, a pleasure to make your acquaintance again."

Brass only glared back in reply.

"Mr. Bosco." Grissom nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm sorry, but we are rather busy with a current case of ours."

"I understand." Bosco's sharp gaze took in the room, and its occupants, in a sweep. "What I have to say pertains to this, ah, current case of yours."

"Okay." Brass uttered dubiously.

"I believe you are searching for a man by the name of Sheridan Hastings?"

Everyone straightened. "That's one of his aliases." Grissom replied after a moment's silence.

"We are well aware of that." Bosco smiled again, arrogantly this time.

"So, what do you want?" Warrick snapped.

"All I want is for all of you to stop this ridiculous search for Mr. Hastings."

"Excuse me?" Grissom raised a single eyebrow.

"Your Director has been ordered to end any further investigations on this matter."

"Mr. Bosco, with all due respects, we can't do this." Catherine was syrupy courteous, but the contempt was unmistakable. "There is evidence that he was involved in the explosion at the La Boulevard, not to mention murder."

"Evidence, Ms. Willows?" The agent tilted his head mockingly. "If you had evidence, you won't be sitting here doing nothing. The fact of the matter is that all you have are shaky testimonies from less-than-reliable people. You yourself cannot connect him as your abductor."

"We found a body in his house." Sofia spat.

"And we have evidence that he wasn't even in the city at the TOD."

"What are you, his lawyer?"

Bosco sighed. "Look, I'm not disputing the fact that he is a very dangerous man and possibly responsible for all the crimes you want to convict him for. But there are matters that are far more serious than what has happened in Las Vegas. All I'm saying is that this case with Mr. Hastings is a little above all your payrolls."

Grissom gave a matching sour smile. "It's good to aspire high."

"I have come here out of respect for the LVPD." Bosco shot them all a derisory look. "But do understand that this is _not_ a request. You have been ordered to shut the case and leave it to us."

When Bosco marched away, they all looked at each other.

"Well, that was weird." Greg slowly said.

Ecklie went up to them. "Not that any of you ever listen to me, but it will be wise to not take Bosco's words lightly. You know you cannot override the FBI."

"Why are they so eager to have us to stop this investigation?" Brass inquired.

"From what I gathered, this Sean is an assassin. He works for anyone and everyone who can pay him."

"Including the FBI." Grissom whispered.

"Including them." Ecklie agreed. "If Sean has ever worked for them, he could be privy to a lot of things they don't want leaked out to the local police, and hence the public."

"So, they are protecting their interests while we have people to answer to?" Sofia lashed out bitterly.

"Not the first time they did something like this." Ecklie let out a breath. "But at the very least you know that they'll hunt down Sean and eliminate him."

"Killing someone isn't justice." Sara stated.

"I agree. Sean deserves to be put on trial. He deserves to be in prison." Nick said.

"Our job isn't to decide that." Ecklie said firmly. "Our job is to find the evidence and analyze them. All of you have done your job as best as you could. You have to know when to stop."

"Tell that to the families who have lost their loved in ones in the bomb." Catherine snarled. "Tell that to the newly wed wife of our officer who was shot down by Rocky."

* * *

Sara stared at the sun sinking below the horizon. Day was fading away into the purple of twilight. Already the birds had begun flying back to their nests.

She could feel the even breathing from Catherine beside her. The blonde's arm was protectively holding her. Her head rested in the crook of Sara's neck.

She gently touched her lover's face and felt the rush of joy to find that it was real. She kissed her finger and then ran it gently along the sleeping lashes. She still felt as if everything was a magical dream from which she'll wake up any minute, all alone.

They hadn't had time to talk much. Everyone had wanted to meet Catherine. Even the media, once they got catch of her being alive, had hounded them incessantly. Sara was just incredibly content to find her in her arms. There was nothing she wanted or desired more in the world. She wished she could keep Catherine by her side, like this, for the rest of her life.

But her happiness would never be entirely complete and they would never entirely be rid of the haunting memories. Not until Sara knew the reasons. Not until she found out why Sean, her only brother, had did what he did.

There was just this much Grissom could do under the Director's pressure to shut the case. If they didn't find Sean soon, that is exactly what they'll all have to do. They'll have to label it as unsolved and discard it into the file room.

No, she had to find her brother and get her answers. Otherwise, she would forever be chased by the demons of his presence. For the sake of her own peace of mind, for the sake of justice, she needed to search for Sean.

And she knew just the place to start.

She slowly disentangled herself from Catherine. The very act left her cold and miserable. She didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay by her lover forever. But sound reason told her that as long as Sean was out there, he might strike again. Who knows how many more people he would kill? Who knows how many more would suffer his ruthless disregard for human life?

Catherine groaned sleepily as Sara stepped off from the bed. She quietly opened her closet and took out a pair of jeans and shirt. She then got a duffel, threw in another pair of clothes and softly made her way into the bathroom. There she filled the duffel with her necessary toiletries and then changed out of her nightdress. Sara took her wallet, phone and any other items she might need and shoved it inside the bag. She didn't know for how long she would be gone, but the trip to San Francisco itself will consume a good part of a day.

Sara took a notepad from the bedside table and scribbled on two pages. She tore both out and placed one on her pillow, beside Catherine. She secured it with a rose she plucked out from the vase.

Sara bent down and kissed Catherine's hair gently.

Lindsay wasn't due back from her softball practice until late in the evening. Sara went into the girl's room. The study desk was cluttered with various pieces of stationery. Finally, she put the second piece of note beside a photo frame. It was of last summer. Sara and Catherine had their arms around each other, with Lindsay stuck in between. They were kissing the girl on either cheek when the picture was taken.

Sara felt a sob rise in her throat. She picked up the frame and brushed her lips lightly against the glass.

When she closed the front door behind her, she knew she was taking a huge step. Her brother had killed many for a reason and he might very well kill her if she tried to find him.

She might never return.

* * *


	36. Chapter Thirty Five

**Chapter Thirty Five**

The California State Mental Facility wore a distinct Gothic architecture. The East Wing seemed newly renovated, but even its glossy exterior couldn't lift the dismal air. The sheets of rain falling from grey skies didn't seem to help either. Sara wondered if Nature was against her, once again.

The interiors had the sterile look of a hospital and an alertness she had only seen in police headquarters. The staff moved around silently but dutifully, not waiting to toss a greeting or exchange a smile. Sara walked up to the head desk. A poker-faced woman looked up from her computer screen as she approached.

The request was filed quickly. Sara was given a form to sign and then a female guard took her into a room for scanning. Satisfied by the check, another staff, dressed in a nurse's attire appeared. Flanked by these two women, Sara walked down the corridors to where her mother was kept.

The nurse recited the various safety protocols in a monotone voice. Sara paid a fraction of an attention to what she was saying. Her gaze swept across the white doors behind which lay many the seriously ill. People, whose minds had abandoned all signs of normalcy, now spent the remaining of their lives confined in this cage. For many, any hope of a recovery had long been lost. The government only kept them here because killing them was unethical and having them out at large was dangerous.

She tried to ignore the guttural moans of insanity emerging from these rooms and the way her flesh crawled because of it. The air smelled of nothing, but it was dry and cold and it prickled the hairs on her neck. She was reminded of the last occasion when she had been inside a facility like this.

It had resulted in her almost being killed.

"Here." The nurse opened the door to the visiting room. Sara was glad to see some sunshine lightening it up. She wondered how they expected anyone to be cured in a place as dark as this.

The room was empty. Pieces of metal furniture were lined in a neat order. Sara saw scratch marks on some of them.

"She'll be here in a minute." No sooner did the guard say that, the door at the opposite end opened.

Sara tensed. Whatever she had expected Laura Sidle to look like she hadn't expected this. A woman - frail, almost skeletal - walked towards her. Her skin was translucent and Sara could see the lining of the blood vessels like ugly phone wires. The woman's form was so withered it threatened to collapse any minute. It seemed that only the guards' tight hold prevented her from doing so.

Laura Sidle had been a striking beauty in her youth. Sara remembered her mother very well from the days when she could charm the customers into paying much more than a burnt omelet and watery coffee deserved. Her father had been prudent enough to never strike her on her face but abuse her everywhere else. He understood the importance of having a pretty wife to show off.

Like Sean did.

Sara clasped her hands nervously as she waited for her mother to sit. Laura's eyes were a bright grey, unlike that of her children, and it seemed clouded by the mists of mental delusions.

"Twenty minutes." The guard reminded Sara curtly before backing away into a far corner of the room. Sara felt weak. She didn't know if twenty minutes would be enough for her. She wondered if even twenty days would be enough. Laura Sidle seemed to have slipped deep into the pits of insanity.

"Hi." Sara started, searching her mother's face. She almost gasped when Laura looked up. The eyes had lost its fogginess and was bright clear, lucid clear.

"Hello Sara."

"Y-You recognize me?"

"You are my daughter." Laura shrugged, as if that explained everything. "Besides, you look a lot like _him_."

"D-dad?" Sara stuttered.

"Oh, the resemblance." She uttered in a sing-song voice. "I always knew you'd take after him."

"I didn't."

Laura smiled, as if to a young child. "Tell me about yourself."

Sara exhaled. "I've come to talk about Sean."

"No, you've come to ask me to betray Sean."

Sara didn't know what to say to that.

"You know what's remarkable? It's your eyes, so like him. Brown. Such a warm color, so comfortable. But when he used to get edgy like you are now, his eyes went black, just like yours. I know it so well. It was the last thing I remember seeing before he beat me unconscious."

Sara felt her head swim. Her mother was playing her, she knew. She was donning the mask of the innocent, brutalized victim that always brought her compassion and sympathy. Sara only felt cold.

"We are not here to talk about me. I want to find Sean. Do you know where he is?"

"Yes, I do."

"Where?"

Laura gave a slow smile. "And why should I tell you?"

Sara sighed. "Sean's in big trouble. If the police don't find him, the FBI will. And they won't try him, they'll kill him."

"They will, won't they? It's a kill or die world we live in."

"If Sean is tried in a Nevadan court, he has a hope of at least living a few more years."

Laura gave a brittle laugh. "You don't know Sean at all it seems."

"Maybe not." Sara gritted her teeth. "But I do know he's a murderer. He's an abuser. He has done terrible things to people."

"So quick to judge, are you? Don't you forget he's your brother. I'm your mother and Gordon was your father. Can you deny the blood that runs in your veins?"

Sara controlled her temper. "So, you won't tell me where he is?"

"If I will, would you promise to bring me Lena?"

"Your granddaughter?"

"Sean's daughter." Laura remarked. "I want to see her. Sean has never shown her to me, only in pictures. This was a way he controlled me."

Sara frowned. "Why do you care about Lena?"

"Do we or do we not have a deal?" Laura ignored the question.

Sara hesitated. Bringing a ten year old girl to visit this woman wasn't on top of her list of pleasurable things to do. Laura had a strong effect on people, mostly negative. She didn't want Lena to experience that.

But still, she didn't have much choice. She had to know where Sean was.

"Alright, we do."

"I'll hold you on your word, Sara, remember that?" Sara saw a dark look of threat cross her mother's face before it disappeared. "11 Harcourt."

"11 Harcourt? Are you sure?"

"That's where he started. That's where it'll all end." Laura murmured cryptically. Then before Sara had a chance to ask any more questions, she threw her hands up and began to wail. Her body went into wriggling spasms and unintelligible words spewed from her lips.

"W-what?" Sara extended her hand only to have it snatched away violently. Shocked, she turned to see who had done it. It was the nurse.

"Don't." The woman warned. "She'll get even more agitated. She might even attack you. Stay away."

Guards had already pulled a squirming Laura up and were leading her away. All the time she muttered something under her breath while humming a tune.

"As you see, she can hardly remain sane for ten minutes." The nurse remarked somberly.

Before leaving the room, Laura turned towards her daughter. "Lena." She spoke and then winked at her mischievously.

* * *

"Catherine, what is it?" Grissom panicked at the expression on his friend's face. 

"Gil, it's Sara, she's gone." Catherine panted.

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"She just left. She didn't even tell me about it. I woke up and she wasn't there. Something can happen to her, Gil. What if something already happened to her? What if Sean finds her? What if he does something to her?"

"Cath, calm down. Nothing will happen to her." Grissom laid strong hands on the blonde's shoulder. "Tell me everything."

Catherine looked into his cool, grey eyes and steadied herself. "I woke up this evening and didn't find Sara home. My first thought was that she went for a walk or something, but then I found this." She lifted a piece of handwritten note. "Lindsay got a similar note. Sara has gone to find Sean alone."

"She can't do that. She knows it's too dangerous." Grissom tried to reason.

"Read this then." She shoved the paper towards him.

He hesitated, not entirely comfortable with reading someone else's letters. But the look of conviction in her eyes remained undeterred. He took the paper from her hands and put on his reading glasses.

My dearest Catherine,

There is nothing in the world that could make me happier than just watching you sleep like this, close to me. But the horrors of reality cannot wait and we both know that it will strike and strike again until it is not caught. Sean is my brother. I wish to God he wasn't, but he is. I have to know what grudge he had against me that he lashed out at everyone close to me. Unless I find my answers, I'll never be at peace. Unless I know what his vendetta is, I'll never be adequately capable of keeping you and Lindsay safe. I failed you both once and I cannot bear to think of doing it again. For all our sakes, I am going to find him. Don't come after me. I don't want him to think the police are on his trail. Have faith in me.

Love you and only you.

Sara

Grissom read the note twice to ensure that his eyes weren't deceiving him. "What the hell is she thinking?"

"Sara blames herself for what happened." Catherine slumped wearily. "She thinks it's her fault Sean did what he did."

"Of all the stupid things I believed the woman was capable of…" He ran anxious fingers through his hair.

"I called the flights. Sara took one to San Francisco. But she could be anywhere in that city. How would we find her?"

"I'll ask Brass to call his friends in San Francisco." Grissom was trying to contain his anxiety.

"Did someone take my name?" Brass called out.

"Jim, we need you to ask your friends at the SFPD for a favor."

"I don't have friends at the SFPD." Brass snorted. "They hate my guts. But can this favor wait? I have something I think you guys would like to see."

"No, this can't wait." Catherine snapped. Brass lifted his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry." She apologized, burying her face in her hands. "It's Sara."

"What's happened to her?" The Captain questioned, alarmed.

"We hope nothing." Grissom looked at his friend. "That is why we need someone out there to check up on her."

"What the hell's going on? Why is Sara in Frisco?" Brass shifted his gaze back and forth between Catherine and Grissom.

"Sara's gone to find Sean."

"What?" He bellowed. "Has she gone out of her mind?"

"Please Jim, we need to hurry." Catherine pleaded. "Who knows where Sara is or worse what that bastard might to do to her?"

"I'll get on the phone immediately." He turned to leave and then he stopped. "You guys might want to give this a look." He handed Grissom a sheet of paper before striding away.

Grissom glanced at it. His eyes widened as he read the contents.

"What? What is it?" She asked.

"Brass got a subpoena into all the bank accounts. We got a common link between all the sudden, huge payments that were made into both Kristen and Rocky's accounts."

"Who?"

"And Joyce worked in his casino."

"You mean…"

Grissom stared ahead. "Sam Braun."

* * *

Sam Braun was his usual nonchalant self, even in the interrogation room.

"I can't believe this. You guys are always finding some thing or the other to pin on me." He sighed exasperatedly. "It was my daughter who was kidnapped and you are questioning _me_?"

"We did find evidence of you paying off both Kristen and Rocky, Catherine's abductors." Brass spoke.

"And you think I paid them off to pick up my daughter? That's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard."

"Then how can you explain why is money being transferred from you to them?"

"Look, I pay off many people for many jobs. You don't expect me to keep tabs on the faces, now, do you? They were probably lowlifes who did something for me once."

"Do you believe him?" Catherine asked Greg. They were standing at the other side of the two-way mirror. He glanced at her warily. She was bristling like a wounded tigress ready to take revenge. He didn't know which answer should be suitable.

"I-I don't know. Do you?"

"Sam's my father." She said. "But he is also one of the cruelest men I've met. I don't know what to believe. Why would he want to hurt me?"

Greg sighed. "You know, we had a memorial for the victims who died in that explosion."

"Yeah." Catherine nodded. "I saw it on the news."

"Sara wasn't there. She couldn't be there. Sam didn't allow her to go in."

She turned to look at Greg. His head was hung in shame. "And we didn't do anything about it. No one stood up to support her even when Sam stopped her from being there for Lindsay. We weren't good friends for her."

"For a man like you, powerful, rich, Sean might prove very useful, right?" Back in the room, Brass taunted.

"I don't know this Sean." Sam said shortly. "I don't know why I'm still here. I'll never harm my daughter!"

"Oh no, you wouldn't. In fact, you made sure that I wasn't harmed." Catherine shouted as she stormed into the room.

"Catherine, you shouldn't…" Brass rose.

"That was why Kristen and Rocky treated me so well, didn't they?" She ignored Brass and stood right in front of Braun. "You paid them off to do so."

"You don't know what you're saying." He said calmly.

"Oh, don't I? All those years I've known what you were capable of, but this? Really Sam, even I didn't expect you to go this down. You collaborated with Sean to murder all those innocent people and then had everyone think I'm dead?"

"Mugs…"

"Didn't you even stop to think how it'd affect my daughter? How it would affect Mom, Nancy, Sara?"

"Sara's the root of all problems." He growled, standing up. "Sean was her brother. If not for her, none of this would have happened. His grudge was with her."

"And you took advantage of that." Catherine gave a humorless laugh. "You thought it was the perfect opportunity to drive Sara out of my life. You never liked her, did you? You weren't happy that we were together. So, you made a deal with her brother to destroy her. You made sure that not a hair on my head was hurt while you watched Sara's life and reputation being torn to shreds."

"Your relationship with Sara is wrong." He spat angrily. "She is a nobody, a nothing. You made that mistake once with Eddie. You think I would be happy with that?"

She stared at him and then shook her head sadly. "I made another mistake. The mistake of thinking you could be my father. Apparently, I was wrong. You can only be Sam Braun, the casino mogul, the man who just loves himself."

"Mugs, I don't have a hand in this." He insisted.

"You know what, I don't believe you."

* * *


	37. Chapter Thirty Six

**Chapter Thirty Six**

Sara tried to hold her breath as she walked across the narrow street. The stench of freshly butchered meat and the simultaneous roasting of them brought bile to the base of her throat.

An Asian woman grabbed her hand and pointed towards her wooden rack of steamed dumplings. "Very fresh. Tasty." She said. "I give you four for a dollar."

Sara smiled and shook her head.

"Okay, five then. I give one more, for good luck."

Sara politely extricated herself. "Thanks, but no."

To avoid the eager grasp of some other vendor, Sara tried to stay as far from the sidewalk as possible. It was hard task to shoulder herself through the crowds. This wasn't even the main Chinatown. Her vegetarian lifestyle had kept her from seeing one.

She found her building at a far corner, away from the noise and bustle. She glanced around and unconsciously her fingers strayed to her hip, only to find nothing there. She couldn't bring along her gun.

Taking a deep breath, she entered the building that looked as if it was going to crumble any moment. For its dilapidated look, Sara found the walls and stairs strangely sturdy. It was old architecture, built for the purpose of housing generations and generations of the same family. The place was deserted. Not even a rat scuttled around. She didn't know whether she should announce her presence. Once again she felt the absence of a weapon strongly.

After making sure there was no one on the ground floor, she boarded the stairs. The building may have the appearance of a ruined fort, but it was kept surprisingly clean and had none of the sooty cobwebs she expected to see. The second floor was empty as well. She continued to climb and check. She was half out of breath by the time she reached the seventh floor.

Puccini caught her ears.

The floor was open into one wide space, undivided into rooms. A divan dominated one wall while the other three housed fully, but neatly, stacked shelves. The music came from an antiquated gramophone. The room was a strange combination of darkness and light. She could see parts of the bed and the record player, along with a wall clock and a pen stand, clearly. But the rest was obscured pitch black.

"So, you found me."

Sara jumped at the voice. She squinted into the darkness, trying to make out a figure in them. "Sean?"

"I said to myself that the day you find this place is the day you deserve to know the truth."

"Sean, where are you?"

"You didn't give up. You didn't let some snooty fed intimidate you. But then you are a Sidle. We Sidles never rest until our vengeance is met."

"Sean, if you give yourself up now, then maybe the DA could consider something."

"I'm your offender. I kidnapped your girlfriend and tried to frame you. You have every right to want to kill me."

"I don't want to kill you." Sara swallowed.

"Oh no, right, you just want to sent me to prison. You want to cage me. You want to destroy me." Sara almost screamed when Sean suddenly appeared in front of her. He was still handsomely groomed and part of his features were a reflection of her own. But there was such a foul coldness to his eyes that she knew she was looking at a stranger.

"People have to give us Sidles credit. Most think revenge ends with death, but we know better, don't we? We know that death is but a fast and almost compassionate way of achieving revenge. We believe in torture. We believe in agony." He smiled. "I know that and I see you know that too."

"I only want justice for all those innocent lives you killed."

"No, that's the CSI talking. I want to know what Sara thinks." Sean leant so close that Sara could feel his breath on her face. "Do you remember a time when we used to be close? We played together. We were always together."

Sara felt herself trapped by his intense gaze. "Yes."

"Did you care about me, Sara?"

"I-I did."

"Yes. I did too." He brought his hand to cup her face. "I cared about you, my little sister."

"Then why?" She whispered.

He gently caressed her cheek. "Because you betrayed our mother, Sara. You betrayed our family. You told the police that you saw her kill Dad."

"But it… it was the truth."

He curled his fingers around the nape of her neck. She could feel the pressure slowly morphing into pain, but she found she couldn't raise a finger to protect herself. She was as if paralyzed by the force of his presence.

"The truth, Sara? The truth is that our father was a mean son-of-a-bitch. He hit us. He hit our mother. He raped her. And you know what? He made me watch it. He made me watch how he violated her because he knew – he _knew_ – how it affected me. He knew how much I loved her. He used to beat her so bad. She had to defend herself."

"Sean…" Sara licked her parched lips. "I was there. I saw everything. It wasn't self defense. She knew what she was doing. She had planned it."

"He knew how happy we were together and that made him mad. He wanted to stop us from being happy. He wanted me to know that she was his to use." Sean didn't appear to have heard her. "She only wanted us to be happy."

"She didn't have to kill him. It didn't have to be that way. She could have gone to the police."

"She is the most beautiful woman I've ever known. But I couldn't help her." His eyes began to mist. "I could only watch, helpless, as he hurt her. But she willed me to be strong. She knew we'd get an opportunity to escape from him someday. She gave me that hope and it was with that hope I endured his every vile deed."

Sara reached up to his face and tried to make him look at her. "You hurt your wife too. Do you remember Carmel and how you abused her?"

Sean fixed her with a long, hard look before turning away abruptly. "There's a chair near you. Sit down."

"No, thanks I'm fine."

"You worry about your reaction time? You think you wouldn't be as effective in defending yourself if you sat?" Sean was mocking.

She didn't reply.

"Sara, if killing you was what I wanted, I would have done it a long time ago."

"Then why didn't you?" She challenged. "Your grudge was with me. You wanted to punish me for… for what you call a betrayal. Why did you kidnap Catherine? Why did you take all those innocent lives? Whatever had they done to you?"

"Oh no, I never wanted to kill you. I wanted you to pay for what you put us through for so many years. I wanted you to feel dearly the anguish of losing someone you loved." His breath came out in quick, shallow bursts, indicating his struggle to contain a very powerful emotion within. "You had never known what separation feels like, Sara. I wanted you to savor that bitter taste. Tell me, Sara, how did you feel when you believed Catherine was dead?"

Sara felt a sharp stab of pain at the memory. She tried to block it away. "You may want to justify what you did, but there are no excuses for your crimes."

"No, no, Sara, talk to me. Share with me your burden." He taunted. "Tell me what was being robbed off Catherine doing to you. Tell me how you felt."

She thought of not answering, but he waited. The silence was overbearing and scoured her patience. She finally murmured shakily, "It-it felt like, like, my world was coming to an end."

"Yes." He hissed. "That's how it feels like. Did you feel despaired? Angry? Guilty? Empty? Sick?"

Sara nodded feebly. "Yes, I did."

Suddenly he appeared full into the light and she flinched at the fury boiling in his dark pupils. "And that was just two weeks! Can you begin to imagine how I must have tolerated, years after years, losing the one I loved more than anything and living with a fat, old guy who used me as his boy whore?"

Her eyes widened. "What? I…"

"Oh, you think Gordon Sidle was bad. You never met Benjamin Hastings." Sean gave a hard smile. "We were his slaves and his toys. He sodomized us in every possible manner. Every night was a living hell. If I wasn't the one in his room, it was someone else and I could hear the screams and the cries for mercy. But there was no mercy. Not from Benny and his friends."

"Why didn't you report it to Social Services?" Sara was horrified.

Sean looked at her as if she was stupid. "Benny wasn't my foster parent, he was my master. He taught me how to survive in this world. He taught me how to shoot and to kill." He waved his hands around. "Here, in this place. Here I shot a person for the first time. Here he taught me the intricacies of the underworld. Here he showed me how the law and the police can be twisted to suit my purposes. It's a strange irony that I killed the asshole with his own gun one day."

Sara shivered at the gleeful expression on his face.

"After I was free from him, I took over his business. It was only then that I went to meet her." He smiled wistfully. "That was a truly blissful moment for me. You should have been there, Sara. It was so beautiful, like two lost souls reuniting. At that instant, nothing else mattered. I had the power and the money and I promised I'd do everything to get her out. I promised her that she wouldn't have to rot in that prison for doing such a noble deed. She deserved to be honored, and I told her I would give her that."

"Sean, she manipulated you. She is not a saint. She could have saved both of us from him by doing the right thing. Instead, she let him victimize us. She killed him because it had gotten too much for her, not because she wanted to protect us." Sara tried desperately to make him see reason.

He laid on her the most hateful look she had ever seen. "She told me how she was so disappointed in you. She told me how you were the one who had turned against her. She cried and cried because you had betrayed her, Sara. You broke her heart. And mine too."

"And that is why you came after me, because she shed a few crocodile tears?" Seeing the fanatic extent her brother had gone to, she felt surges of rage welling up within her. "She played you, like she plays everyone else. I did the right thing, Sean, and I'm proud of it."

"You are an ungrateful wretch." He seethed. "And don't you come spouting self-righteous sermons at me. You are the cause of that explosion. There is no sin greater than forsaking your own flesh and blood. You are the cause of whatever happened to Catherine and those people. And you are the cause of whatever happened to Rachel. You wanted to convert her to your ways. All you care about is spreading your own pathetic ideologies. You deceived her into a relationship and then abandoned her as soon as you found a fresh conquest. You have no right to stand in judgment against me."

Her mouth curved into a sorrowful smile. "You can't make me feel guilty. I have worked with criminals for too long and as depressing as the thought is, you are one of them. Mom never loved either of us. She was weak, Sean. I realized that as she watched while Dad hit me. She never raised a single voice in protest. Not even for you."

She saw his anger rise, but along with it was also something that looked like desperation. Standing against sound reason, his faulty justifications were slowly crumbling. That, more than anything, was devastating him. Sara knew that Sean had driven forward with cruel efficiency only because he actually believed he was right. She had found an opening, a weak spot, in his defense.

"She's the one who told me where to find you."

"You think I'd believe that?" He rasped.

"Consider this for yourself. Who knew about this place but her? Who could have told me about it but her?"

"I don't fucking believe you!"

"She made a deal with me, but that's not important." Sara tentatively reached out and touched his arm. "What's important is that she doesn't care for you, not like you think."

"These are all lies. You are a lying bitch!"

"She fed you with her own recipes for revenge for who knows how long. She turned you into a monster. The brother I knew - the brother who played with me and always protected me no matter what - wasn't a monster. He was a good boy. He was the kind of guy who brought an injured puppy home."

"Shut up!" He covered his ears with his hands.

"Do you remember, Sean, how you once stood up against those guys bullying me at school? At that moment, I took your hand and was so proud to know you were my brother. You weren't as big as them, but you had the courage to oppose them when no one did. That was the brother I knew. Not this, not who I'm seeing now."

"Shut up or I'll fucking shoot you!" He wailed.

"You once said we'd always look out for each other. We promised each other. That is why I'm here today. Let me take you back with me, Sean, and we can work something out."

Despite knowing what he had done, despite remembering all the burnt bodies at La Boulevard, despite the anguish she had suffered, Sara's heart went out to him. At that moment, she saw what he had been and she truly believed that there was still that part of him hidden somewhere inside.

"No, I can't. I can't." With trembling hands, he took out a standard revolver. "You are lying. She didn't tell you about this place. She wouldn't do that to me. She _loves_ me."

"Sean, she doesn't love anyone. She doesn't care what happens to you. Don't throw your life away for her." Sara was afraid he might shoot, but she also couldn't stop herself from approaching him. That instant, he looked more vulnerable than anything.

"No, no, this is not right. Oh God, please, this isn't happening. I did everything for her. I gave her my whole life. I loved her so much. Tell me she didn't do this." Sean's whole body shuddered from his sobs.

Suddenly, they heard sirens. He looked at the single window near the roof and then at Sara. "You called the police."

She extended her hand in an inviting gesture. "Let them take you. I'll talk to the DA. I'll talk to everyone. Sean, just let me help you, okay? Please, bro?"

His fingers tightened around the gun until his knuckles were white. Sara felt her own gut contracting. She tried again. "It's me. Trust your little sister, please?"

"You want me to stand trial?"

"It's going to be alright. We could try and find a way, together." Sara didn't know, and didn't care, whether she would be able to deliver her promise. Right then, she only wanted to save her brother.

"I have never lived my life on anyone's terms." The anxiety and sorrow was gone from his face. He now only held a somber expression. "And I'm sure as hell not going to start now."

"This is the San Francisco Police, drop your weapon and put your hands on your head." They heard an officer command.

"Sean, please, listen to me. We can do this together!"

"This is not right." He muttered grimly. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

"Bro, I can help you." Sara pleaded.

"Ma'am, I advise you to step back." A reed-thin female voice instructed.

"He is my brother."

Sean held the gun pointing towards Sara. "It's supposed to feel good. I've waited so long for this moment. It's supposed to feel good. Not like this, not like this."

"Sir, drop your weapon, now!"

Sean's eyes fluttered, with unshed tears or with specks of delusions, Sara didn't know. "I loved her." He said quietly. "Why did she do this?"

"Sean, don't let her win. Please don't let her overpower you. This is your life and only yours. Do the right thing this time!" It was only when she felt wetness trickle down her neck that Sara realized she had started to cry.

"Ma'am, this is not a request. We ask you to take a step away!"

"No, please, don't hurt him." She screamed.

"I'll count to three, sir, for you to throw your weapon. One…"

"She betrayed me. You betrayed me." Sean glared at her. "Why should I trust you?"

"God, Sean, don't do this!"

"Two…"

"Put the gun aside, Sean, please!" Sara yelled at the top of her lungs, hoping that if not the words then the sound will penetrate through to her brother.

"She didn't love me. She didn't love me? How could she not love me?" He whimpered like a lost child. "All I ever wanted was for her to love me and be proud of me. I did everything for her. How could she not love me?"

"Three!"

"No!"

Gunshots, several of them, blasted in firing. Amidst screams from all sides, Sara found herself being pushed to the ground by a strong arm. She saw blood spatter and wood splinters flying. She saw her brother continue to stare at her and whisper words that sounded like "Goodbye, little sis." But she couldn't be sure. She tried to crawl out of the grasp that held her tight, but she couldn't. All she could do was wiggle her hands helplessly on the rotting hardwood as her brother fell.

* * *

**I'm aware that there are things in this chapter that might not appeal to everyone. It might even make a lot of you hate it. I just want to say that a lot of stuff out here, especially concerning Sean , is open-ended. You can interpret it however you want. Of course, I would love feedbacks on it ;)**

**There are two more chapters and that will be the end of this looooong series. ****Thank you to all who read it! You are my sweet inspiration :)**


	38. Chapter Thirty Seven

**Chapter Thirty Seven**

Sara hadn't been aware of how late the hour had gotten until she stepped out of the building. Dusk had gathered and navy blue clouds prevented even the fading sunlight to reach. But the area was as bright as day with the flashing lights of the squad cars and ambulances.

Despite the warm blanket, Sara couldn't stop the cold from making her quiver. In fact, she felt weak just by the continuous way her bones rattled. She saw the EMTs wheel Sean into their van, complete with emergency IV tubes and oxygen masks. The police had cordoned off the area and were struggling to contain the crowds from crossing the crime scene parameters.

"Sara!"

Sara dimly wondered if she was hearing things. No one here could possibly know her name.

"Sara, oh my God!"

She looked up and was struck motionless by surprise. Catherine had jumped out of an SUV and was running towards her. Even before she had time to react to her lover's unexpected appearance, she was wrapped around firm arms.

"Sara, are you alright?" Catherine frantically ran her hands along Sara's hair. "Oh God, I was so scared. You just leaving like that. I was so scared for you, babe."

"Cath…" Whatever else Sara was about to say got muffled when Catherine pulled her face down for a kiss.

Sara felt some of the warmth seeping back into her veins at the feel of Catherine's lips on her own. She slowly brought her hands up to cradle the blonde. Just days ago she had thought that this pleasure was lost to her forever. The possibility of kissing Catherine, holding her, had forever faded into dreams. But now, breathing in the familiar scent of the woman and sensing the loving embrace caused her heart to flutter in happiness.

"God, Sara, don't ever do this to me again. Don't ever leave without telling me where you are. I was going insane with worry." Catherine almost sobbed as they broke a few inches apart.

"How else could I have had you here, kissing me crazy in front of all these cameras?" Sara grinned.

Catherine gasped as she realized that the media and a few bystanders were cheerfully taking pictures of them. She went a deep red and awkwardly untangled herself from the brunette. She scowled when she heard a chuckle beside her.

"This is not funny, Sara." She tried to look stern, but failed as she found her own cheeks twitching with amusement.

"Oh, Cath, I love you." Sara kissed the top of the fair head. "And I'm so happy you are here."

"Well, take my word for it, from now on I'm sticking to you like glue. You can totally not be trusted."

"That's a given." Brass shouted, approaching them. "What were you thinking, Sidle, playing Wonder Woman?"

"I did what I had to do, Brass." Sara offered.

"And did it ever occur to you that you could have gotten killed in the process?"

Sara assessed the grim expression on both Brass and Catherine's face and decided it was better to not admit it had occurred to her that she was taking a life risk. Instead she said, "I was so mad at him that I guess I wasn't doing much thinking."

"You damn well weren't." Brass scolded. "Next time, do that before going on a suicide mission."

"Yes Papa." Sara sighed.

"Taking off on her own, unarmed, unescorted. Whatever is this girl thinking?" Brass muttered under his breath. "Thank God, she had enough brains to at least tip the police off."

Sara sighed. Catherine leant in close to her. "He was just so panicked, Sara. We all were. Grissom was so tensed, he forgot to feed his pets."

"Good. We'll finally be rid of them. They scare the bejeezus out of me."

"Sara." Catherine grabbed her hand and forced her to look at her. "I'm serious, don't ever pull such stunts. We nearly lost each other this time. I can't bear it if it happens again."

Sara traced those delicate cheekbones with her thumb before bending to plant a firm kiss of promise on her girlfriend's lips.

* * *

They caught the first flight to Vegas. Exhausted by all that had happened, Sara had drifted off into a deep slumber, her head cushioned in the soft contours of her companion's shoulder.

Catherine couldn't sleep. She had been operating on pure adrenaline and a rush of righteous vengeance for the past couple of days. But even she had to admit that a few days of captive had sapped her energy. It felt nice to have everything back to normal again. But the aftereffects would come soon enough, she knew that. She was already feeling the first strains of it. The grief, the terror and the anger, all had been overpowering. As it slowly drained away from her body, she was beginning to feel a strange numbness.

Though she had gotten back Sara and Lindsay from this turbulence, she had also lost something. She had lost her complete trust in Sam. He hadn't entirely been a father figure for her, but they had shared a bond, albeit an unstable one. And her mother loved him, still love him. She didn't want to think how the news of what Sam had done would affect Lily.

She leant back against the firm plane seat and let her mind relax. But try as she might, she couldn't rest her tumultuous thoughts. Nothing would be the same again. She knew Sara wouldn't be the same again. Her Sara had been jaded by her past, but at the very least, that past had remained in the past. She could only imagine what Sara would go through once the whole concept of what her brother did finally dawned upon her.

Catherine glanced at their hands linked together. She gently rubbed Sara's palm with her finger and smiled at the tiny friction of warmth it caused. The brunette was so fast asleep that she didn't take note of it.

Catherine made a solemn vow to herself. Whatever Sara had to go through, she wouldn't go through it alone. They had each other and they'd fight this together. She had almost lost every shred of hope when she was shut away in that cabin. She had only been able to watch how her supposed death was devastating all those she loved, but not able to do anything about it. There was no way she could speak for the future, especially not after what had occurred in the past month. But she could speak for the present, and it lay with Sara. She had come so close to losing it and she would make sure that it never happened again.

* * *

**And one more chapter and an epilogue to go:D**


	39. Chapter Thirty Eight

**Chapter Thirty Eight**

The Crime Lab waited for their heroes to return.

Sara knew that no matter what her biology said, this was her family. These people truly cared for her to support her in every way. She was a Sidle by a random fate, but she was a CSI by choice and in heart.

Greg had his arms open wide to hug both her and Catherine. Sara ruffled her fingers through his starched hair and heard him laughing and crying at the same time. Nick wasn't far behind, as he formed the second half of the envelope surrounding the girls.

"Guys, guys, are you planning to suffocate us?" Catherine chuckled.

"If it were possible, we'd stay like this, around you, all the time." Nick teased.

"Then, we are lucky that it's not possible." Sara gave him a playful punch.

Warrick walked slowly towards them. Catherine looked up into his crystal, green eyes and saw the emotions brimming through it. He was so overwhelmed with joy that he was afraid he might collapse just by the force of it. She placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Cath… I…" He broke off, swallowing hard. "I wish I could have done something to help you. I-I failed you."

"War, you didn't fail me. In fact, I probably didn't know how much all of you cared for me until now." Catherine let out a knowing smile. "You guys are the best friends I've ever had."

Warrick patted her cheek. "You are a remarkable woman, you know that?"

She covered his hands with her own.

"Damn Warrick, don't I get a hug?" Sara teased. "Where's the love?"

He chortled as he stretched his other hand around the brunette.

Grissom stood at some distance from the group. He wasn't feeling any less emotion than any of them. He just didn't know how to convey it. As far as he was concerned, there was no human facial expression that could correctly state what he was feeling.

He was supposed to be their boss. He was supposed to look out for them, sure, but also keep a detached stance from them. How – or when – did his team members become more than just that, he wasn't sure. Over the years, he had come perilously close to losing some of them and he had been more seriously affected than he cared to admit. But he was Gil Grissom, the man who didn't look back and ruminate over what he _felt_. However, even he wasn't immune to when feelings overpowered restraint.

Sara and Catherine both turned at the same time to look at the man who headed their team.

He gave them a meaningful smile. "Glad to have you both back."

"It's nice to be back, Gil." Catherine glowed at her friend.

"The lab's not been the same since you were gone. I never got the chance tell you that."

"You know how I keep complaining that I don't get enough vacations?" Catherine laughed dryly. "I never realized I'll miss this place so much."

"And this place missed you." He leant to give her a brief hug and then he turned towards the other woman. "And you, Sara, you are due for some serious repercussions. What the hell were you thinking?"

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Not you too. I already got a long lecture from Brass."

"That's just going to be the beginning." But he was smiling.

* * *

Sofia quietly walked away from the team. She had been a CSI once, a supervisor briefly, and yet she had never had such a rapport with any of her colleagues. She felt a slight tinge of envy at the close ties they shared. Over the years, she had gotten more close to them, after she was demoted to a detective. But she still felt like an outsider sometimes, especially at such times. 

She hopped into her car and slid it out of the underground garage. She felt like a loner. She hardly had any friends. She hardly ever dated. And her family was way too busy with their own lives to hear her pour her heart out. Much of her life, she had been so busy achieving honors that she had never stopped to cultivate relationships. She wasn't cold. She was far from frigid. She was good with diplomacy, excellent in socializing. Despite that, she wondered, why she was all alone.

She had been barely aware of her destination until she saw the brick structure of Desert Palms looming ahead of her. She eased her vehicle in an empty parking space.

Her phone rang at that instant. She picked it up and saw S-A-N-D-E-R-S flashing on the display.

"Greg." She greeted.

"Hey Sofia, where are you? I didn't see you at the PD." Greg sounded slightly nervous.

"Yeah, I took off early."

"So, you know, I was thinking if, well, you know…" He was mumbling. She found it cute, in a teddy bear kind of way.

"No, I don't know, Greg."

"Well, if you are not doing anything, then we could maybe hit the bar, celebrate a little?"

She hesitated. She enjoyed Greg's company, more than enjoyed it in fact. He was funny, sweet and really smart. Beneath that goofy exterior was a caring and sensitive guy. He made her laugh. He made her forget the dismal cases of the day. And she knew that he was harboring somewhat of a crush on her. She did like him, but she knew it could never be more. It would be fair to let him know that early in the game. Knowing Greg, he would get over it and find a new pair of legs to fawn over. But she didn't want him to keep any hopes of them being anything more than friends.

"Greg, I don't think so."

"Oh." The disappointment was unmistakable in his voice. "You got someplace else you have to be?"

She smiled at the gossip-monger in him. "Yeah, I have to meet someone."

"A date, Sofia? Damn, I didn't know you were seeing anyone." He sighed dramatically. "What's he got that I ain't got?"

Sofia laughed. "Well, gorgeous looks and a really sexy foreign accent."

"Hey, I got gorgeous looks." He complained. "But yeah, can't do much about the accent, though."

"I gotta go, Greg." Her smile faded. _Foreign accent? Where did that come from?_

"Hey, tell him I said hi and also tell him to treat my woman good."

She shoved her phone in her jacket as she walked across the squeaky tiled floors to where Carmel was.

She was surprised to find her hands go clammy all of a sudden. She lost her nerve and would have turned and ran back had it not been for the nurse who recognized her.

"Detective Curtis, isn't it?" The woman gave a cheery smile.

"Y-yes." Sofia stuttered.

"Well, strange coincidence, the patient was just asking about you."

"She was?"

"Yeah, she just asked if you've been around. I told her that you were probably busy catching the bad guys." The nurse winked. "Nothing impresses a woman more than a hero."

"Huh?" Sofia blinked, confused, but the nurse was already walking away.

The detective gulped down her edginess and walked into the ward.

Carmel looked up from the magazine she was reading. Her face broke into the sunniest of grins when she saw who her visitor was.

* * *

Gil Grissom - that too on his knees with a single red rose in his hand - was the last person Lady Heather expected to find on her front door. She stared speechless at him for a few seconds. 

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" She asked incredulously, after she recovered from her shock.

"I just wanted to ask if you'd like to have dinner with me tonight."

"Dinner?" She doubled back. "Did you just ask me out for dinner?"

"Yes, I did." He winced as he leant forward to present the flower to her. "These stones outside your house are really uncomfortable."

She shook her head, not quite believing what she was seeing. "Well, this is really unexpected."

"Lady Heather." He exhaled, trying to calm his rising pulse. "I know you don't like me a lot right now and I understand that I am at fault. But can you give me a second chance?"

"A second chance?" She lifted an eyebrow. "How do I know you won't break my trust again? You are a CSI, above all, and everything else gets a distant priority after that. While it's an admirable quality in some sense, I don't think it can sustain a relationship."

"I admit my work has my utmost importance, but that's probably because I don't have much experience with relationships." He muttered, uneasily. "I am who I am and it is a little late to change that, but," Grissom's eyes darkened with intensity. "I like you… a lot. And I, uh, don't want to lose you."

She looked down. "After Zoe, I don't know if I'm able to emotionally connect anyone. She'll always be this void in me."

He tentatively took her hand in his. "I'm not asking you to forget Zoe. All I'm asking is for you to share her pain with me."

She let herself feel his touch. She had been with many men, both out of desire and compulsion, but she had yet to find that one man who could affect her. While Grissom was in many ways a very private man, she also knew he was a rare man with integrity. She despised him for hurting her. But the very fact that he had managed to hurt her proved that he had been more than just another man to her.

"It'll take time, Mr. Grissom, and a lot of effort."

He cleared his throat and brushed his lips against her fingers.

"Well, that was a start." She tried to hide her smile.

When he blushed, Lady Heather found it one of the most endearing things she had ever seen.

* * *

Wendy had stayed after her shift to clean off the lab benches. With the rush of the explosion case, there hadn't been enough time to scrub off the stains from her workplace. The janitors mopped the floors, but kept a safe distance from the main area that housed potentially dangerous chemicals. 

She was just making her way out of the Crime Lab when she jerked to a stop as a car halted right in front of her.

"What the hell, Nick?" She gasped, catching her breath.

"Wendy, I know you are going to say no and I know I'll end up looking like an idiot." He tilted his head. "But I also know this great place where I'd like us to have some beer and a dance."

A gust of laughter slipped out from her.

Nick frowned. "What's so funny?"

"Took you long enough, Stokes." She gave him a lopsided grin.

* * *

Brass unlocked his front door and trudged into his living room. The almost back-to-back plane journey and the loads of paperwork mercilessly waiting for his return had worn him out. He collapsed on his settee, not bothering to make it all the way to his bedroom. It didn't make a difference, he thought. He lived all alone and there was no one to grumble. 

As he was about to close his eyes, his glance strayed to the calendar. September the 27th, he saw. For a moment, his mind tried to battle through the foggy weariness to come up with why that date was significant to him.

And then it struck him.

Immediately straightening, he reached for his phone. He dialed the number he knew by heart but never had the courage to use. After five rings, the answering machine picked up.

"This is Ellie. Leave a message."

"Ellie, hi, this is Dad." Brass rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I just wanted to wish you a very happy birthday. Well, err, yeah, I guess that was all. Have a nice day, El. Um, bye."

"Dad?"

He almost dropped the device in surprise. "Ellie, you there?"

A brief hesitation and then, "Yeah, I'm here. Thanks Dad… for…for calling. I didn't think you remembered."

He smiled. Occasionally, he got a chance to have a proper conversation with his daughter, one that lasted more than a minute. When he did, he considered it extremely precious.

"So, you doing anything special for today?" He asked eagerly.

* * *

Warrick lovingly caressed his wife's only slightly swollen belly as they watched the ultrasound together. 

The gynecologist checked the charts and beamed at them. "Well, fetal movements are fine. Your baby seems healthy."

His healthy baby – that was all Warrick wanted to hear. It was an all new experience just knowing that he was going to become a father. His entire life, he had been a gambler and a risk-taker, but the very thought that his child would soon make an entrance into the world was more exhilarating than any bet he placed.

Tina squeezed his hand and lifted herself up to kiss his cheek. "I love you, Warrick Brown."

"Ditto, Mrs. Brown." He bent and placed a gentle kiss on her stomach. "And you too, Junior Brown."

* * *

"Where are we going?" Sara frowned at the unfamiliar road. 

"Child Services." Catherine replied, taking a smooth turn.

"Why?"

"To pick up Lena."

The Denali stopped in front of the rather old, but comfy looking DCFS building.

"I don't follow." Sara shot her a perplexed look.

"Sara, I've spoken to the administrator. You are Lena's next of kin and until Carmel recovers and can submit an adoption plea for her, I thought it's better she stayed with us. I couldn't do the same, unfortunately, for Kyle. Even though your legal partnership with Rachel is recognized in California, you had never formally adopted him."

"So, wait, are you saying we are taking her home with us?"

Catherine nodded, before turning to the receptionist and showing her the appointment slip

"But, Cath, are you… I mean, are you okay with it?"

Catherine gave her a blank look.

"I mean, you don't mind taking up the responsibility for Lena?" Sara waved her hands for emphasis.

"It's just until Carmel is well enough." She replied. "And of course, I don't mind. Besides, Lindsay would probably love the company."

Sara wanted to give her a big hug for her consideration, but she couldn't in full view of everyone. Instead, she satisfied herself by flashing a wide smile that showed she really appreciated the thoughtfulness.

A strict-looking lady emerged from inside, holding Lena behind her.

* * *

Sara cupped her chin with both her hands as she watched Lindsay and Lena. Lindsay had been warm and welcoming to their guest and she was graciously showing the awkward Lena how to play some of her old video games. 

Sara brought her knees closer and leant against the balustrade of the staircase. She didn't want to disturb the two girls, so she sat down on the steps just to keep a casual watch on them. It was nice, she thought, to finally see everyone smiling around her. She had almost forgotten what a smile looked like in the past few days.

"Alright, ladies, it's time for bed." Catherine announced, as she climbed down.

"Oh, Mom, can't we stay up one more hour?" Lindsay protested. "It's not even a school day tomorrow."

"No, Lindz. Lena's had a long day and she needs to get some good sleep. Right, Lena?"

Lena gave a shy smile.

"If you both brush your teeth and change your clothes in fifteen minutes, then you can have warm milk and cookies."

Lindsay leant conspiratorially towards the younger girl. "She still thinks we are babies."

"You both are babies for me." Catherine clicked her fingers. "Now, c'mon, hurry up."

Lena awkwardly took Lindsay's hand and slowly went up the stairs. When she came close to Sara, the brunette stopped her long enough to kiss her on the forehead.

"Hey, how come I don't get one?" Lindsay pouted.

"You think I'd forget my princess?" Sara grinned and pecked her cheek. "Have a good night, both of you."

"Goodnight." Lena whispered softly.

"Goodnight, Sara!"

As Lindsay and Lena disappeared into the bedroom and the young Willows' enthusiastic babble faded, Catherine moved down and sat one level above where Sara was.

"The curfew includes you too, you know?" She curved her arms around her woman's neck. "Come to bed, Sara."

"Mm, do I get warm milk and cookies too?" Sara lightly kissed her fingers.

"That and more." Catherine ran her lips along her sensitive earlobe.

"Catherine?"

She sensed the sudden tension in Sara's muscles. That immediately caused her guts to wrench. "What, babe?"

"I got a call from San Francisco earlier. Sean made it."

"He's alive?"

"Yeah."

Catherine sat in silence, holding Sara protectively in her arms. This news carried an enormous weight around it. If on one hand she were relieved that Sean could now get some well-deserved justice, on the other hand there was the feeling that he was still very much around in their lives. She couldn't wait to give Sean a piece of her own mind, but it had to wait.

"Sara, honey, you okay?" She stroked the dark hair gently.

"Yeah, I guess. I didn't want him to die, Cath. You know, when I was facing him, talking to him, I just couldn't see the vicious murderer. I only saw my brother and I know that could have cost me dearly. He could have so easily manipulated me and I almost allowed him to. I suppose I am still vulnerable to my family."

"No, Sara, you are not vulnerable. You loved your brother. Except, that brother died inside him a long time ago. He is just a killer now."

"I know." Sara lowered her head and wrapped her own hands around Catherine's. "He deserves to stand trial and be punished. My revenge is not enough for him. Death is not enough for him."

"I still can't believe this is real. I'm so afraid I'll wake up and find myself back in that basement." Catherine shuddered.

She turned around to face those blue eyes, burning bright with love and longing. "I don't know if this is real or not. But I do know that we'll rise again, amidst the ashes of all our burnt dreams."

* * *


	40. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Lena_ _waited until she could hear even breathing from the body beside her. When she was sure that Lindsay was fast asleep, she slowly slipped out of bed. Tiptoeing her way across the room, she opened the door and stepped outside. The hallway was dark save for a single dim lamp near the kitchen. She walked towards where she knew was the master bedroom. She pressed her ear against the door. No sound emerged from inside. She noiselessly moved down the staircase and flitted like a shadow towards the backdoor. When Catherine had punched in the code into the alarm system, she had placed close attention to the numbers. She had a razor sharp memory for these things. She slowly dragged a chair and then climbing on it pressed in the keys. She waited for the green light to flicker and die before stepping down from the chair. _

_With stealthy hands, Lena_ _slid open the door. The night was cool, but she didn't mind the chill, even in her flimsy nightgown. There was a full, yellowish moon in the sky. If she squinted hard enough, she could see the tiny craters on its surface._

_She heard rhythmic hoots from up the tree. She could see the blazing eyes and dark feathers of an owl. She bent carefully, without making any sudden movements, and picked up a loose brick she found on the grass. She tightened her little fingers around its rough edge. She clenched her muscles and steadied her spine. Then in one fluid motion, she spun and threw the brick towards the tree. A sickening whack filled the night air and a thud sounded as the creature fell to the ground. Without giving it a chance to regain its wits and fly away, Lena_ _rushed towards the bird and picking up the weapon, she swung hard and bashed the face. Warm blood spurted out from the wound, but Lena_ _ducked right in time to avoid its spray. She swung, harder each time, until she had completely bludgeoned the already dead animal into a pulp. She then picked up the brick and threw it at the neighboring backyard. She went to where the hose was attached to the supply tap and turned it on. The water oozed out and washed away the mud and blood from her hands. Satisfied and cleansed, she walked back inside and closed the door behind her._

_Once again hoisting herself up on the chair, she reset the alarm and switched it on. _

_Everything was still quiet in the house. Not a soul stirred from their deep slumber. She softly walked back into Lindsay's room._

_Lindsay was now sleeping on her side, much to Lena_'_s delight because it now gave her enough space to squeeze in without waking the girl up. She pulled the blanket close to her chest and with a final smile of content she closed her eyes._

_**- - - The screen slowly fades to black and the credits start rolling**_

**_In the background you hear the CSI theme - - - _**

* * *

**A****uthor's Note:** **So, yes, finally it ends. And I can already hear the sighs of relief. I'd like to thank all those who read and reviewed and all those who read but didn't review :-( Writing this one wouldn't have been possible without my lovely beta, my beautiful muse and you, my wonderful readers. It was fun writing it, if a little depressing at times. So, thank you, thank you, for keeping up to my 80,000 + words (gasp) fic. **

**And now I'm off to catch a wonderful nap in the Willows-Sidle household (yeah, if you were wondering why Lena wasn't put into a guestroom, well, that's coz I was occupying it)**


End file.
